


Parting Metal

by Axel_Reight



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action, Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Ghouls, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Revenge, Romance, Suspense, Synth love, Synths (Humans), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axel_Reight/pseuds/Axel_Reight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After tragic events have enveloped Cyra's family, the young woman sets on the path of revenge.  The Commonwealth around her is a dangerous place that she is willing to tame in order to solve the mystery of her father's disappearance and to avenge her brother's brutal death. And it all comes with the help of the notorious detective Nick Valentine that agrees to end the nightmares that follow the woman everywhere she steps.  However a deep connection forms between the two that leads to an unstoppable chaos...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fascinating game became the source of inspiration, and thus comes this creation...

 

**Chapter 1: _Midnight_**

“Mirelurk King!” A drifter shouted on top of his lungs as he ran toward a gathering of ruins where his flock has nested. The man stumbled a few times, scraping his hands and knees as he came into a painful contact with the ground.

“Wake up! Wake the hell up!” He continued, his eyes glued to the discoloured sleeping bags that were occupied by his comrades. They seemed to be completely motionless as if they drank themselves to sleep with the cheap bourbon purchased in one of the ruined settlements down west.

The drifter continued to cry out, still far away from the camp but surely close enough for everyone to hear his bloody screams that he will pay for later with the lack of voice in the morning. Finally, one of the figures situated the farthest from the rest has moved under warm cover. A head with messy brown hair popped up and turned from side to side.

“Jesus what is he yelling about?” Cyra groaned sleepily, her hazel eyes still trying to focus on her surroundings. She did not agree to be awoken by a screaming madman in the middle of the night when she paid thirty caps to stay in this camp overnight. “Hey, Jason, will you shut your friend up?” The woman reached out to grab a rock near her bag and then toss it at the neighbouring sleepyhead.

The heavy artillery hit the man right on the shoulder and caused him to gasp and leap to his feet with a kitchen knife grasped tightly in his hand. Cyra snorted at the view of a rudely awoken man who was still half-asleep but ready to fight.

“Put your blade down, warrior,” Cyra raised her hand in order to calm the man down. “Your friend is disturbing my sweet dreaming, so I decided since I am suffering, you can suffer with me.” The woman grinned as the man glared at her and dropped his knife down on top of the sleeping bag.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The drifter snarled and looked around, checking if anyone else was awake. His eyes froze on a bag that was empty and untouched. “Are you kiddin-”

Another scream echoed through the buildings and bounced off the poorly preserved walls. Jason snapped his head around and stared at the direction where the sound was coming from. His eyes widened as he saw his friend being chased by a large glowing crustacean that he immediately recognised as a deadly threat.

“There is a Mirelurk King chasing Paul…” Jason murmured as he slowly approached one of the occupied sleeping bag and shook one other drifter awake. The woman looked confused but she quickly sobered up after she saw the alert look in Jason’s eyes.

“What did ya say?” Cyra questioned as she sat up. She pushed her short locks away from her face and focused on the man.

“I said,” Jason growled as he turned to face the woman. “There is a Mirelurk _**King**_ chasing Paul.” He said sternly and voluminously enough to wake the remaining members of the gang.

“Alright, alright, hot shot, calm down. I heard you.” Cyra rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air in a surrounding gesture. She then looked over to Dogmeat that was resting in her knees, his kind eyes watching his owner with concern and curiosity. The woman reached out and brushed the dog behind his perking ears.

“Your dog is no good. He failed to inform us of the monster’s approach.” Jason said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well we didn’t need him anyways, your friend was kind enough to do the job himself.” Cyra smirked as her body elevated from the sleeping bag, her hazel eyes fixing on the drifter. “Now don’t try to start something here. I paid for your hospitality, don’t make me take those caps back with a bonus.” She added with a dangerous glow in the depth of her gaze. Jason shivered and said nothing as he turned away from her and called everyone to arms.

“We are going to kill this bastard, and then go ahead and move out. We don’t need an army of Mirelurks crawling back here and finishing us off.” The man commanded as he reached back into his belt holster and pulled out a .44 Caliber pistol. Cyra chuckled at the view of the little fun that would be simply useless against the Mirelurk King, but she decided to stay quiet.

Dogmeat whined as he felt the presence of the danger significantly decrease its distance between them. His damp nose pushed against Cyra’s leg asking for attention; the woman only smiled and brushed his head again.

“Cyra, Paul is dead.” Jason announced once the lack of heart-wrenching screaming was noticed. All of the present individuals turned their heads to look toward the area where the Mirelurk King has been seen in the last five minutes. The beast was within a mile away, it’s mouth wide open, tongue hanging down with droplets of fresh blood dripping down on the dusty ground.

“I’ve noticed,” Cyra rolled her eyes as she watched the drifters gather into a small group and take a position to meet the monster face to face. Those idiots did even realise just how powerful the glowing lizard was. “Bonne chance.” The woman concluded with a smirk before turning to the ruins and running toward a dull green door that lead inside of a half-broken house.

Upon entering the building, Cyra shut the door tightly and let out a sigh of disappointment.  She knew that those drifters stood no chance against the beast and would join their friend Paul very soon.  The woman turned and pressed her ear to the door, listening to the shouts of orders from Jason and a fresh wave of wailing.  They had finally figured out that there was no way they could win against the mutant, but they continued to stubbornly fight for their survival.

“Are you waiting for them to die off?” A deep masculine voice came from the corner of the gray room.  Two yellow eyes glowed at Cyra from the darkness of the corner that lay right across from her.

“Of course,” Cyra smirked and looked toward the speaker. “In all respect, but after a day in Diamond City I’m broke.  Those thirty caps can save life later in our journey.” She said and shook her head as the voices began to dim as the drifters died off one by one.  It seemed like Jason was the last-standing warrior, but looking out of the broken window was a bad idea since the Mirelurk King could easily see Cyra and the other two in the building.

“Did you tell them that they stood no chance against the monster?” Valentine pushed away from the wall that he has been leaning on for the past few hours and watching the scenery from corner of the window.

“You think they would listen to me? Those idiots think they are heroes.”  Cyra rolled her eyes and finally dared to peek outside.  The Mirelurk King stood near the bonfire that was dulling quickly. There was no sign of foreign resistance which clearly indicated whose victory was it. The beast’s mouth was caked in blood as well as its claws. Cyra’s eyes widened before she exchanged a glance with Nick.

“I assume since you took a role of a spectator, you are not going to kill the monster?” A shadow of a smirk appeared on the synth’s lips as his eyes never left the monster.  The beast circled around the camp, sometimes looking toward the building where the trio was hiding, but seeming to never notice their presence.

“The bastard might be enervated, but I am not going to take any chances.  It is just a waste bullets that we might need later.” Cyra shrugged her shoulder. “We already got pretty beat up after we left Diamond City. You remember that Deathclaw? Yeah, exactly.” The woman flitted her gaze from Nick and sighed in annoyance since the Mirelurk King seemed to have no intention of leaving the camp.

“It wasn’t as horrific as you describe it,” Valentine arched his brow. “Though I must admit, I think I lost a few screws in the process.”

“Not a good time for a joke, Nick.” Cyra hissed, lowering her voice since the beast was slowly approaching the building.

“I’m serious,” the synth replied, even though amusement could have been noticed in his voice. “Let’s go out the back door, I don’t think he’s leaving any time soon.”

“There’s a back door?”  Cyra snapped her head around to stare at Nick in disbelief. _And he could not tell me **earlier**?_

“I don’t need to sleep, remember? So I decided to explore things a little and avoid disturbing your sweet dreams.” Nick smiled over his shoulder as he walked toward the crumbling walls, gesturing for Cyra to follow him.

“How considerate of you, Valentine.” The woman grumbled as she gave the camp one last glance and called Dogmeat to follow them. It was disappointing that she could not loot the corpses and get the caps back as well as some ammunition, though after the fight she doubted there was anything left of any value.

Valentine led the group through the holes in the structure that managed to form a tunnel that lead to a door.  The synth pushed it open and stepped aside to let Cyra and Dogmeat to go out first.

“Why are you being a gentleman? I’m far from a lady, Nick, and I’m sure you saw enough of my “kind” heart throughout Commonwealth.” Cyra huffed, the strands of her dark hair falling on her face as she looked around the corner of the house, checking if the monster has noticed something.  Thankfully, the danger was far away now, as well as the scene of a tragic end for the drifters.

“You do have a kind heart, doll, just not for those who have lost any sense of humanity in this world.” Valentine replied, finding himself startled by such a question.  It was true that Cyra did not look like a lady by the first glance.  Instead of a long rosy dress she wore leather pants with dirty boots and a white shirt covered by a long trench coat that was littered in spikes and chains.  Her hair wasn’t curly and tidy as if she had just left a barber shop; it was short and appropriately messy.  Her face was not a definition of an idle model, there was a small scar in the left corner of her lips, as well as her brow. Her eyes were darkened by the heavy eyeliner, making the hazel glow in the sun.  She was a tiny female, a head shorter than Nick, but fit and showed several signs of lean muscle. Appropriate curves did hide underneath her armour, but nobody complained since in the wild Wasteland guns saved the day more than just looks.

Did that bother Nick about Cyra? No. He did not care that she took pride in murdering a Deathclaw and then cutting off its claws in order to make herself a weapon or a necklace.  It never disturbed him that she would curse someone out because they whacked a bullet in her body or dared to laugh at her statements. This woman was beautiful, smart, and equally dangerous.  And that is what Valentine enjoyed seeing every time she would appear to ask him for help.

Cyra was a kind person under a shell of indifference.  Sadly, she had seen too much in her early years.  She has lost her brother to the feral ghouls that Raiders decided to unleash upon him for their sick amusement.  Her mother was publicly shot in Diamond City because some moron had convinced the whole town that she was a synth. And her father…well, Cyra never spoke about her father for various reasons; one of them being the ideal of comfort.  Valentine had met her only a month or so ago, and it didn’t seem enough for the woman to open her deepest worry.

“Are you flirting with me?” Cyra commented with a smirk on her lips, forcing Nick to tear away from his inner thoughts.  The synth blinked and focussed his gaze on the woman.  She was standing near one of the ruined pillars and playing with a switchblade in her hand that she looted from one of the dead bodies of a Raider they have found near the Deathclaw’s nest.

“I am stating the obvious.” He replied without any hesitation but returned a playful smile.

“You have been staring at me for the past minute or two.” Cyra noted, her eyes narrowing in a mock of suspicion. Valentine shrugged and walked closer to the woman, lowering slightly in order to pet Dogmeat, who loyally stood next to his owner, tongue hanging down and tail wagging in excitement of receiving attention.

“I had to run some diagnostics. Nothing special.” Nick replied, his eyes focused on Cyra. “Ready to move out?” He asked and straightened back up.

“Let’s go.” Cyra nodded her head, her face reverting to its stoic expression as she pushed away from the ruin and made her way around it.  She slid the switchblade back into her back pocket and began to plod forward, her eyes focused on the road.  It was certainly around 4 in the morning, but still dark enough to mistake shadows for mutated monsters.

“You’d be shocked how many people I’ve managed to convince I’m just a really sick Ghoul.” Nick said after a few minutes of silence as he kept close behind with Dogmeat. He heard Cyra chuckle and smiled to himself knowing that he has succeeded to lighten up the mood a little.

“Can’t fool me, Valentine.” The woman said over her shoulder and then let herself laugh a little. “A sick Ghoul, oh please.”


	2. Aching Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cigarettes and Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter stands back and gives more information before the twisted action.

 

“How long has it been since we left the drifter camp?” Cyra kicked her legs forward as she rested her back against the rough surface of a jutting outcrop. She pushed her hair away from her face and turned her head to glance over the synth who was currently occupying a nearby half-ruined bench. Valentine’s golden eyes darted from the horizon toward the woman but the man remained silent for a few moments.

“An hour.” He finally replied, pulling out a screwdriver from his left pocket and then messing with his right robotic hand. His lips were spread in a haunting soft smile that Cyra usually observed when there was something on Nick’s mind. She always wondered what was going on in that clockwork head of his, her curiosity growing stronger each time she saw him daydreaming.

“Seems like forever.” Cyra chuckled and tilted her head back, her eyes scanning the foggy sky above their heads. The endless grey shroud began to darken as the minutes slipped through like sand through the thin fingers of patience. The soft wind blew against the rocks, playing with Cyra’s locks, swaying them from side to side. The woman grumbled to herself, reaching back and pushing her hair away from her face, already distracted from the darkening scenery.

Nick was watching her the whole time. His luminous eyes glued to her face, scanning every sharp angle and scar on her skin. She had not noticed his close attention yet, perhaps it was for the better. The sun was slowly rising up, the light slowly, timidly crawling up the cracked earth and eventually reaching the peaks of the hills. The woman squinted as the tiny yellow rays fell on her face, turning her head away almost immediately with an annoyed grumble.

“Valentine, are you okay with traveling to the Glowing Sea?” Cyra inquired, her eyes tightly shut for protection from the stubborn light of dawn. Nick’s face change slightly as if he was contemplating something life changing.

“I think sometimes you are forgetting who I am, kid,” the man smirked and shook his head slightly. “You should worry about yourself and Dogmeat before turning your concern to me.”

“I don’t care about radiation, Nick, remember that Hazmat suit I stole from the dressing shop in Diamond City?” Cyra huffed and shifted into the shade of the boulder, away from the heat. Valentine rolled his eyes back and inhaled slowly before replying to her.

“You didn’t have to do the stealing part, Cyra.”

“Excuse me, Valentine, but that damned thing was a hundred caps. You know how short I am on those? Every single cap in my pocket counts.” Cyra snapped, her eyes darkening with a sudden outburst of annoyance. “That suit saved my ass from radiation three times already; it is better than being a part of a dusty display. Sometimes, stealing is the best way to survive.”

 The synth remained silent. On one hand, Cyra was right in her eyes. That suit has protected her from the toxic part of Commonwealth, as well as helped her reach the most irradiated places in order to find valuable loot. On the other hand, by Nick’s count, the day she stole the suit there were precisely a thousand caps in her pocket. It was puzzling to him that she did not pay a small amount to the woman at the desk that needed to make a living as well, but the man refused to question or even alarm the shopkeeper at that moment. He simply shook his head as they were leaving, but Cyra never noticed his disagreement until now.

“I won’t argue with you Cyra, but I am sure you don’t have a dog-sized suit for our little friend.” The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held one between his lips before slipping a lighter over the edge. He took a deep breath, smoke soothing from his mouth and the large opening on the side of his head and throat. Dogmeat’s dark eyes slid curiously from the synth to his owner, wondering what the two of them were discussing.

 “I suppose you’re right. I don’t want Dogmeat to grow another head or something, even though it’s still a miracle for me how he survived through all this time.” Cyra murmured and looked down at her hands, brushing them together to get rid of the dirt before she turned her attention to the dog next to her. “Hey buddy, I’ve got some news for you.” She whispered softly, her gaze becoming more gentle. Dogmeat cocked his head to the side, blinking twice while his tail began to wiggle from side to side.

“Do you mind waiting for us back in Red Rocket?” The woman asked and reached out to scratch the side of the dog’s muscular neck. Dogmeat’s ear lowered in a disappointed gesture followed by a low whine. Nonetheless he lifted from his comfortable resting spot and licked his owner’s cheek before turning around and wandering off into the ordered direction. Cyra smiled watching his silhouette slowly decrease in size before vanishing in the distance. Her gaze then returned to the remaining companion that was also watching Dogmeat’s departure.

 “Ready to move out?” A small cloud of smoke left Valentine’s lips as his eyes turned to look over Cyra. The woman shrugged her shoulders and pushed her palms against her knees to help her elevate her body from the ground. The woman walked over to Nick’s side and snatched the cigarette from his mouth before shapely drawing in and then nearly choking on the smoke. Valentine shook his head sympathetically and reached over to gently pat Cyra on her back.

 

“Take it easy kid, no need to let your nerves get the best of you.” The synth whispered next to her ear and pulled the cigarette away before she could repeat the same mistake again. Cyra growled, glaring at his fingers as they took away her only hope to relax even though she hasn’t smoked before in her life.

“Lay off Valentine, it’s better than the jets I found at the old factory.” The woman complained, her fingers wrapping around her throat as if trying to squeeze out the dry burning sensation from the first draw experience.

“If you want to start, you do that slowly, silly.” Nick chuckled and threw the cigarette butt over the fence behind him.

“I have no desire to start, I just thought it would be much less addicting than jets.” Cyra looked away with a sniffle, her eyes watering from the unpleasant experience. She was sure that the aftertaste would haunt her forever.

“There are a handful of different ways you can relax, Cyra.” Valentine blinked and flicked the flaps of his coat slightly to adjust it.

“I mean, I could go out and shoot someone in the face…” The woman’s hazel eyes drifted over Nick’s figure slowly, glowing with some deep mischief as she was already imagining wasting extra shotgun shells in order to blow a Raider’s head off.

 “Or maybe you can choose something more peaceful. Aren’t you the one counting every bullet in your inventory?” A shadow of tease blinked in Nick’s tone while he watched Cyra’s face change attentively. The girl grumbled something under her nose, thus breaking their eye contact by snapping her head away.

 “Alright, alright. You win. Tell me what you have in mind, Valentine.” She took a deep breath, taking one step away from the synth when their closeness began to make her a little uncomfortable. The detective smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, the metal finger tapping on his bicep as he wondered what he could propose that would not make the woman complain all over again.

“How about you tell me something more from your past that wouldn’t ruffle your feathers. Remembering the good will distract you from your current mood.” The synth replied with a low hum on the back of his throat. Cyra arched her brow quizzically; it wasn’t so often that Valentine would suddenly use a moment like this and ask her about her past. She never liked talking about her early years simply because it was one long streak of disappointment.

“I remember when Rhys and I were still teenagers. running around our small house in Quincy and chasing radroaches out of the shade. It was one hot day as I could recall.” Cyra started as she rested her back against the bench, her eyes staring at the horizon before them. The sun has already disappeared, the sky swallowed by a long blanket of grey. “We became so distracted we found ourselves later near the swamp that was full of Milelurks. Unfortunately Rhys was older than me, and we had a deal that the older one will make choices for our entertainment. And so,” The woman smirked, her head turning to make full eye contact with the synth by her side. “He dared me to come as close to one of those mutants as possible from behind and touch its shell.”

 “Don’t tell me you agreed.” Valentine’s eyes widened slightly as he lit another cigarette and passed it to Cyra who immediately eyed the smoking treat. The woman gladly accepted the offering and took a slow draw. Smoke oozed from her lips in a thin, soft, grey line before vanishing into the air and becoming a part of the irradiated atmosphere. Cyra felt another shock of her body’s opposition but at the same time a hint of utter relaxation that forced her to keep going. Her mind fogged up slightly and she seemed to not care what she was saying about her future. Little by little, images of her past became to flash in front of her eyes, asking to be discovered by the man that was sitting right next to her. Cyra slowly shut her eyelids, her back firmly pressed against a few remaining rods of the bench’s backrest, and let all of her memories consume her.

 

☢        ☢          ☢

 

_“Rhys, for the last time, I am not going to put myself in danger for a grand prize of a pipe pistol. I can just wait until I’m nineteen.” Cyra huffed, trying to keep her voice down since the oversized mutant crabs may hear their voices and hurry to their hiding spot behind tall dry sweet flowers._

_“You are just scared that the little bastard will bite your ass.” Rhys replied with a smirk across his lips that crinkled a long scar in the corner of his mouth. The young man reached out and poked his sister’s side, forcing a small yelp out of her mouth. Cyra growled and shoved Rhys aside, almost making him lose his balance and fall into the mud._

_“I don’t want to die, moron.” Cyra hissed and spread the weeds apart in order to check that the mutants remained crawling at the same spot where they found them. “You realise that I can die right?”_

_“Well I wouldn’t have dared ya if I didn’t want ya to get eaten by one of those things.” Rhys whispered as he leaned closer to the girl, his green eyes squinting is mischief before he roughly pushed her from behind. The girl screamed in surprise, nearly flying out of their lair, and tumbling into the water. She cursed out loud repeatedly, followed by her brother’s loud laughter._

_“Just wait till mom hears about this.” Cyra hissed as she stood up, her clothing dripping from the splash. She quickly looked up to check if the Mirelurks had heard her and surprisingly the monsters remained planted in their business. Well, a dare was a dare after all. She always wanted to have her own pipe pistol since she wasn’t allowed to touch her father’s storage cabinet that was full of scavenged gear until she was nineteen. Fortunately for her brother, he had just turned the proper age and was honoured to pick his first weapon a few days ago. Father told him that if he needed a new weapon or ammunition, he was always welcome at the storage room. Rhys had his own key that unlocked the door into the treasury and even his own little cabinet where he would stash his findings after the long nights of him exploring around the abandoned buildings of Quincy._

_No one lived here anymore after the Quincy Massacre. Cyra’s family was very lucky to occupy a house at the very edge of the neighbourhood from the side were the Gunners wouldn’t see them since the culprits had occupied most of the buildings. Rhys was always sent out to find food and medicine with a little dagger that father found on their way from Outpost Zimonja, a liberated outpost taken by the Minutemen and their strange General who was constantly mentioned along with Preston Garvey._

_Cyra’s father never liked the Minutemen. He thought they were too confident in freeing the Commonwealth from its dangers. Cyra and Rhys constantly overheard him talking to mother at night about how the Wasteland was drowning in death and the Minutemen could only see their nose in the thick fog of ignorance. Soon he grew sick of it and after collecting some food and weapons, he forced the whole family to leave at dawn and travel far down South East. They avoided the occupied areas as much as possible until they found a well-preserved two-storey house at the edge of the swamp area and away from any possible danger._

_Father used to go out every night and bring pieces of different materials back to slowly build a fence around the house in case there were any beasts or Gunners lurking around._

_“I hate you so much.” Cyra whispered under her breath as she slowly proceeded to approach the Mirelurk lair. Her eyes focused on the shell that was turned to her and seemingly not moving. The other wicked creatures remained at a safe distance and seemed to take no notice of a short human being in dark brown attire slowly approaching their brother. Cyra could hear her heart pounding in her chest and echoing in her ears. She knew that there was no way this could go well, but the adrenaline that kicked into her mind forced her to keep her going with her hand outstretched._

_One step after another, the shell becoming closer and closer. The young girl could almost feel the hard damp surface on her finger tips. She seemed to stop blinking, her breath freezing in her chest, and heart slowing down. The Mirelurk was so close. If she touches him for a second she will get her own pipe pistol two years before she would be allowed to possess it._

_“Cyra!!” A loud blood curdling shout came from behind forcing her to wake up from the illusion of success and snap her head around. She gasped as she saw Rhys in the background surrounded by Gunners, their weapons pointed at him from all sides. The young man’s eyes were wide open, his breath seemingly rabid from the panic. “Cyra, run!” He shouted again before one of the Gunners told him to shut it, slamming the butt of his rifle against the back of Rhys’s head, and forcing him to fall on the ground unconscious. Cyra screamed for him but was immediately cut off by a moving noise behind her. Mirelurks, she completely forgot about them._

_The girl quickly turned around and had a second to jump away before the mutant could grab her. She fell back into the water and pushed as much as possible to escape the quickly approaching beast. She heard the laughter of the Gunners behind her; tears formed in her eyes as she realized that might’ve been the end._

 

☢         ☢          ☢

 

 “How did you survive?” Valentine asked worriedly as he studied Cyra. The cigarette really did the trick of relaxing the woman and fogging up her mind enough to numb the pain of the flashback.

“I fought with my bare hands,” Cyra shrugged and rolled up the sleeve of her drab-coloured blue shirt showing off a large scar that started at her wrist and disappeared somewhere underneath the sleeve where her bicep would be. “The bastard split it right in half, I could see my bone very clear.” She smirked discarding the former injury as if it was no big deal. If Nick could, we would’ve had goosebumps all over his body just from the thought of what Cyra had to go through.

 “You don’t have to tell me the rest, I know it is painful for you and-”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get over it. We all have a bloody past, but we are tough enough to laugh about it. I am done crying Nick.” The woman tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it with the edge of her boot. She tossed her hair on the side over her left shoulder and threw her arms over the back of the bench, her eyes flying straight up into the sky. “I’m done crying. This is a perfect time to tell you some of the things you should include in your case folder in case I become the Commonwealth’s serial killer.” She purred with a mischievous smirk forming on her seemingly soft lips.

 “I already have one of those to worry about,” Nick shook his head and fixed the fedora over his head, tilting it back a little so the light could fully touch his face. “Ever heard of the Mysterious Stranger? I’ve been trying to solve the case for such a long time I think I lost track of it.”

“Mysterious Stranger?” Cyra furrowed her brows and hummed. “Sounds…mysterious.” She burst out laughing after catching Valentine’s heavy stare.

“Please continue.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest, the percentage of his curiosity rising once again. Of course it was sensitive and a little rude to poke around someone’s heavy past, but if she was fully open and offering her autobiography, why not accept it while there is an opportunity.

 “Well, by some miracle I managed to beat the Mirelurk away. In tears and blood I ran back home on the last dose of adrenaline. The Gunners took Rhys away while I was fighting the mutant so I did not see which direction they went.” The woman had a soft saddening smile on her face. Valentine knew what was coming next, so he slowly reached over to wrap his arm around Cyra’s shoulders. She always cried every time she had a nightmare about it or simply remembered.

 “Father and mother were in shock. Father raged of course, but my condition woke their rusty parental instinct before they could accuse me and Rhys of anything. I was lucky to have a mother that was excellent in the medical field, so after patching me up and calming me down they asked me about everything that happened. We didn’t know what to do, whom to ask, where to search; until one day we heard about some detective in Diamond City that could solve any case.” Cyra pressed her head against Nick’s shoulder, feeling the cold metal underneath, but she did not mind, it seemed to calm her down. Nick remained silent even though he felt a small peck of satisfaction knowing that his name was famous enough to help Cyra’s family.

 “And so we left our home to come find you, Valentine.” Cyra sighed, her eyes slowly closing. “Unfortunately, you couldn’t help us because we found Rhys before we could reach Diamond City. Turns out, the Gunners sold my brother to Raiders at the Combat Zone so they could have some fun. Rhys was always exceptional with his fighting skills, but he was a master of sneaking around not face to face deathmatch.” The woman reach over to play with the edge of the synth’s trench coat, her heart beginning to sink as she saw the picture of Rhys slowly materialize before her.

 

☢        ☢         ☢

 

_“Common you piece of meat, show us what you got!” The Raider yelled from his seat as he tossed a bag of caps on the table before him, probably one of his wicked friends who was obviously addicted to psycho. The madman dashed toward the younger male and smashed him against the wall, causing the teen to gasp for air and screech in pain. The Raider laughed until some of them were choking on the twisted sadistic joy they found in such entertainment._

_Rhys tried to push his opponent away but was met with a short flight across the fighting stage and hit the opposite wall. He could feel two of his ribs cracking in his body, one of them stabbing something within his internal organ system that caused an outbreak of severe pain and blurriness in his eyes. But he forced himself to slowly lift from the floor, spit the blood in the corner of the ring, and stare the Raider right in the eyes with so much hatred and determination that the enemy seemed to stumble a little._

_It gave Rhys a little time to ignore his agony and make a confident push forward to grab the Raider by the shoulder. The younger man pulled out a dagger from the belt around his thought and rammed it right underneath the psycho’s gut. The man screamed in outrage and pushed Rhys away, the blade deep within his body. The Raider snatched the dagger out and tossed the bloodied weapon over the fighting stage. He wasn’t going to make it, but Rhys knew that there was no way he will leave this wretched world without taking him with him._

_The Raider said something under his breath, his left hand covering the bleeding wound. With a groan he reached back and pulled out a pistol that belonged to Rhys (the bastard must’ve looted him when he was still in the darkness). The man lifted his hand that began to shake, one finger on the trigger, the barrel pointing at Rhys’s head. The young man could barely feel the surroundings before him; his body was bleeding inside, knowing that this battle was a tie between them._

_“Rhys!!” Cyra suddenly screamed from the entrance to the building. Both men snapped their head to the direction of her voice as well as the rest of the Raiders in the facility. “Rhys, oh my god, what is happening!?” The mother stood with her hands clasped over her mouth, her eyes beginning to sparkle upcoming tears._

_“Lilian! Get behind me!” The father commanded, showing both Cyra and his wife behind his back, a combat shotgun in his hand ready to be attacked. The Raiders remained motionless, they had one united vibe of hostility, but none of them seemed to hurry and snap the little family._

_“Hey, who gave you the right to distract us, little shit?” One of the braver Raiders called out, his tanned face narrowing with disgust as he looked over their guests as a king looks at the peasants._

_“Who the fuck are you? Get out before we put ya on the stage as well!” Another called out, a click of a gun promising a fast fight._

_“Gentlemen,” a deep voice came from the balcony that stood above several occupied tables. The rest of the gang quickly shut up, their eyes darting to the balcony. A tall man in a black attire appeared in a moment, leaning over the railing with a sinister grin on his face. His hair was of an unusual silver colour even though he looked like he was in his late 20s. Part of his head was shaved, showing off a long lightning-like scar over his scalp. He had bright blue eyes that from one glance made him seem blind. “We have newcomers that came to support their fellow fighter. Let’s give them a round of applause for giving us such a great young boy.” The man lifted his hands in the air that were covered with black gloves adorned with odd spikes along the area of the thumb._

_“You fucking pig!” Her father yelled, pointing the shotgun at the man. Immediately, twenty-three guns were pointed back at him, making Cyra and her mother gasp in fear._

_“Tsk, tsk,” the silver-haired Raider shook his head and pushed away from the railing before proceeding to head down the steps and joining the crowd of his gang. He fearlessly walked over to the family and calmly pushed his finger against the shotgun’s barrel before lowering it down. “No need for this.” The sound of the rest of the guns being put away followed him behind his back. The Raiders lowered themselves down back into their seats, still watching the scenery._

_“What have you done to my son?” The father raged, his whole body shaking.._

_“We have prepared him for the battle of his life.” The Raider smirked, he stepped aside and turned to look at the stage where the psycho and Rhys stood barely managing their balance. “A battle for life to be precise.” “I’ve been looking for him for a month….how fucking dare-”_

_“Ah, shhh.” The Raider raised his hand to hush the other man, a grin still remaining on his pale face. “Name’s Cloven. Pleasure to meet you.” The man performed a sarcastic bow causing the men around him to laugh. “Ever heard of the White Raven? No? My god, I am insulted.” He stepped away from the family under the father’s intense and walked closer to the stage, curiously watching the two bleeding opponents who tiredly stared back._

_“Let him go!” Cyra shouted from behind her father’s back, beginning to sob. Cloven turned around and widened his lips in a smile, his eyes narrowing._

_“Of course my dear!” He turned his head to look at the psycho. “You heard the lady, let the boy go.” The bleeding Raider slowly nodded his head and pointed the gun at Rhys before pressing the trigger and shooting a hot bullet right between the boy’s eyes. Cyra screamed as she heard the shot, her eyes fixed on her brother’s decrepit body that seemed to freeze in the air for the longest moment before it thudded to the ground. A crimson halo soon surrounded Rhys’s head, his former glowing emerald eyes no longer showing any sign of light. The winner lifted his hand in the air showing that he had killed the boy; he was followed by a loud outburst of applause and whistling before he pressed the gun against his temple and shot himself as well, spattering a passing barmaid with warm blood and flecks of brain. The cheering did not stop, it continued to rise in volume, even Cloven shouted something along the lines of “Beautiful!”_

_And then they observed a pair of Raiders pulling Rhys’s body outside the Combat Zone and throwing it to the nearby ghouls that then finished the job of dismembering the body bit by bit, all followed by cheering and the wicked laughter._

_It was a tragedy that sat in Cyra’s mind for the rest of their way to Diamond City where she continued to see it every night in her nightmares. Cloven, the bastard._

 

☢       ☢        ☢

 

“You know the story afterwards.” Cyra said grimly. “We came to Diamond City in a hurry, spent all of our caps on a place to live. We wanted to forget the damn tragedy but we all knew that while sitting at the dinner table at dusk, we were all thinking of Rhys.” The woman said, her cheeks already wet from tears that she had not noticed. “And then my mother was shot because some prick spread a lie that she was a synth…” She whispered and finally broke down into a hysteria. She hid her face in Valentine’s side, trying not to sob too loud to embarrass herself like she did once before.

“Doll, you know you didn’t have to tell me anything like this…” Nick stroked the woman’s back slowly, trying to put all of the support in every touch. The woman shook her head, sniffling as she lifted her head back up to look at the synth. Her eyes were already red, her face slightly puffy.

“I had to tell you. Now you know a part of my story and the reason I asked you to come with me.” She whispered and looked down at Nick’s trench coat where a large darkened spot from her tears was located. “S-sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Valentine lifted her chin and looked into her dulling eyes. “I promised to find Cloven and bring justice to him. I’ll do everything I can in order to make your wish come true.” He said strictly, his eyes unmoving as he looked at Cyra. The woman swallowed a knot in her throat and slowly pulled away.

 “Valentine, there is another reason I wanted you to come with me…” She said after wiping her nose with the edge of her sleeve. “I…I never told you about my father. All you need to know is that after mother’s death he disappeared. It’s been several months since I lost contact, maybe even a year.”

“Why haven’t you told me back in the agency when you first came to me?” Nick sounded perplexed as the news of Cyra’s missing dad had caught him by surprise.

 “I…I don’t know. I thought that if we find Cloven he would lead us to my father, but back at the Drifter camp I found an old notebook that belonged to him. I have no idea how it appeared to be in the pocket of one of the drifters, but the most recent location that he has marked on the pages was the Glowing Sea. I think he went there for some reason, so I intend to travel there.” She admitted and looked down at her hands that slowly curled into fists. “I think he went to look for Cloven as well, so if we can reunite and look for the bastard together, maybe, just maybe, we can be happy again after his head is pinned to our trophy wall.” She whispered with a new wave of rage coming over her. She would not forgive the White Raven until she made sure he meets his demise in the worst way possible.

Valentine took a deep breath and squeezed Cyra’s shoulder in silence. The woman nodded her head as she realized that she had stepped over the edge a little and forced herself to calm down.

“Let’s move out kid. We need to find a place where you can finally get better sleep. We have a long way to the Glowing Sea.” Nick lifted from the bench and reached out to help Cyra do the same. The girl fixed her hair and brushed her tears away before poking Valentine in the side to get attention.

“Hey, fetch me a cigarette, would ya, toaster?”


	3. Parting Roads Connect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three different people, three different stories, three different intentions. Cyra's fate takes a twist as she comes closer to the desired truth.

“General, may I speak with you?” Preston lowered his musket after attentively staring at his surroundings through the scope. Sanctuary had been blossoming ever since the stranger from the vault showed up from nowhere and decided to join the Minutemen. Everything that this man had done in order to save the Commonwealth and recruit more people was fascinating and cherished. It was a blessing given to the devastated army after the Quincy Massacre, as if the godforsaken land decided to allow a second chance. 

“Yes, of course. What is it you need?” The Sole Survivor turned around from the workshop station. His emerald eyes looked over Garvey for a split second before focusing on his face. Nate had changed since he left Vault 111 and found his son with the Brotherhood of Steel. Even though in the end he chose to help those people to destroy the Institute and leave an echoing bitter feeling deep inside Preston, the Minuteman still believed that Nate had made the choice he thought was right. Sole was the General after all, and all Garvey could do is assign missions and wait for him to return with good news. 

“Another settlement needs our help.” Preston started, his gaze catching a swift roll of Sole's eyes. It always puzzled the man; since when did Sole find those important missions irritating? We are talking about liberating the Commonwealth here and saving lives for the greater good! When did being a hero become boring? Protect the people at a moment's notice, that was the code! Nate never seemed to care.

“I’ll mark it on your map.” A teasing voice followed by a chuckle came from behind Garvey. Sole immediately averted his gaze from the Minuteman to the passing MacCready with his usual cheeky smirk. Nate grinned, mentally thanking the mercenary for the perfect timing and easing off the atmosphere. Although the two men exchanged the amusement between each other, Preston did not find anything funny at all. The Minuteman burrowed his brows and glanced back at the sniper with disapproval before silently turning to Sole and shaking his head. 

“Jokes aside, General.” He said and dismissed his weapon behind his back before bringing his arms to cross over his broad chest. “I need you to go to the location on your map and resolve the situation there. The people are complaining about the Children of Atom suddenly appearing in their homes and refusing to leave unless they praise the power of their God.” Garvey sighed. “I know this is new and peculiar, but try your best to resolve the problem swiftly. We don't need another Institute on our hands. If possible, visit the Glowing Sea and find out what is going on there. Who knows, maybe they are holding our people hostage there.”

“Why would these madmen want to hold someone hostage? This doesn't make any sense, Preston.” Nate gave the other man a confused look. This is the first time he had ever heard of the Children of Atom terrorizing a settlement. They usually never left their radioactive domain and it was odd for them to hold hostages, at least, as far as Sole could expand his knowledge about those insane freaks. 

“A Minutemen expedition was sent there under my command a week ago. One of them returned screaming that those people took our men. I would really appreciate if you rescue them.” Garvey concluded, his dark eyes filling up with a fragile hope that Sole could not resist; he was their General after all, it was his responsibility. 

“Don’t worry, I will take care of the problem with the hostages and then pay a visit to the settlements.” He chuckled and then took a step back after Preston left his gratitude hanging in the air and left.  
“Hey, Hancock!” Nate called over to one of the ruined houses he knew was occupied by the Mayor of Goodneighbor. A minute later, a head with an old tricorn hat sitting securely on top popped out from the broken doorway. A pair of black eyes froze on Sole as the full figure of the ghoul emerged from the inside. 

“Ready to get this freak show on the road?” A mischievous smirk stretched over the disfigured face as the man hoped for Sole’s positive response.  
“Let’s do it.” Nate smiled back and then looked down to his Pip-Boy to once again check the location Preston had marked. 

“Where are we headed?” Hancock slowly approached the man, looking over his shoulder down to the device. The smell of cigarettes enveloped Nate in a moment meaning that Hancock was just preparing to relax back on one of the newly made sofas that Sole had crafted just yesterday. 

“Well first it’s the Glowing Sea, and then the Outpost Zimonja.” Nate replied, turning his head slightly in order to look at the ghoul. Their eyes met for a split second before Hancock broke into a large grin.  
“Is that why you called me, not MacCready? The Glowing Sea, huh? The poor sniper can’t handle the rads, eh?”  
“Of course. Besides I do not want him whining about him feeling sick later.” Nate smirked and lowered his arm, letting his Pip-Boy enter its rest mode. After the screen dimmed, Sole pointed forward and began to make his way out of Sanctuary. 

“Good luck, monsieur!” Curie waved her hand from afar with a smile on her lips. “Let me know when we are to set out for more exploration!” Her soft playful French accent always pleased Nate’s ears. He was glad to help this woman out after he has found her locked up in the basement for decades as a robot model of Ms. Nanny. Now here she was, walking around on her own two legs, making stimpaks for Sole when he needed them most. 

“Thank you,” Nate replied back with a nod of his head. “I'm looking forward to showing you the shores and several places that even I haven't been yet.” The man smiled followed by Curie’s excited exclamation. Hancock smirked as well, glancing at the woman and then back to Sole. He was always fascinated of how lovable Sole became and how lucky the ghoul was to call this madman his close friend.  
“So whom are we killin’ today?” The Mayor arched his non-existent brow, his eyes curiously scanning Sole’s puzzled expression. Nate only shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back of his head after taking off the tricorn that he always wore when Hancock was traveling along.

“You know those crazy people that praise the nuclear bomb that they call their God?” The man replied as he made sure no one was around that they had to come into hostile contact with. Commonwealth was always bursting with dangers, nonetheless right now Nate was lacking in desire of wasting bullets on some mole rat.  
“Ah, the folks that seem to be high all the time and fall on their knees when someone mentions Atom? Yeah, don’t remind me.” Hancock shook his head seeming to mentally sigh at whatever unpleasant memories came up. 

“Well, apparently the assholes attacked the Minutemen group at the Glowing Sea in the effort of spreading their insane beliefs. It all sounds odd to me, but nonetheless we have to help those in need.” Nate shrugged his shoulders and fixed the tricorn on his head that managed to slide over to the side. Hancock nodded his head approvingly and followed Sole down the rocky pathway toward the location. 

☢ ☢ ☢ 

“No, absolutely not.” Cyra squealed as one of the glowing radroaches decided to chase the poor woman when she was less prepared for an attack while exploring the ruins of one of the buildings she and Valentine came by. She entered one of the rooms that was perhaps the radroaches’ lair of some kind since the area was occupied by at least a dozen of those giant bugs. Caught by surprise, Cyra only managed to scream and run away from the room immediately chased by a few.  
“Just kill them.” Nick poked his head out of the broken window that separated him from some office and the main entrance hall. The man smirked unwillingly as he saw Cyra run by with terror clearly etched on her face. He instantly remembered the time when the woman accidentally awakened a Deathclaw and had no problem with standing up for a challenge against the monster, so it was a surprise to see her call for help from the bugs. Nonetheless, Valentine did not move from his spot since he found the developed scene more amusing than life threatening. 

“Nick I swear to God I will pull out every screw in your body if you do not help- Oh God!” Another scream came from the woman as a few more roaches appeared from the other room that remained unexplored. Now there were at least seven on Cyra’s tail, all of them swiftly crawling their way to their terrified victim. A soft sound of Nick’s laughter followed as the response to her hysteria which enraged the woman more than the insects crawling around her. 

“Fine, whatever. One day something like this will kill me, and we will see how funny you will find it” The woman growled and snatched an axe that was attached to her hip. She jumped down from the table she had claimed as her safe haven and began swinging the sharpened blade from side to side, hitting the radroaches that attacked her immediately. Cyra hissed at the painful pinches those bastards inflicted as if there were a thousand of them, not the remaining four. After the last roach was finally demolished under Cyra’s strong swing, the woman wiped the blood on the side of the table where a ragged cloth was placed between the broken cabinets. She placed the weapon back on her side and then turned to stare at Valentine who remained in the broken office with a soft smile upon his lips. The woman arched her brow as their eyes met in a long silence spreading around. It was odd to see Nick simply watch her seemingly not blinking as if he forgot how to function. 

“Nick?” Cyra asked as she came closer to the broken window, her head slightly cocked to the side. “Valentine?”  
“Yes?” The synth blinked sharply, his eyes never leaving Cyra. “Apologies, while you were having fun with the bugs, I decided to run some diagnostics.” 

“Sure you were, thanks for help.” Cyra huffed turning away from the man and walking toward the broken elevator to inspect a skeleton there. She was more than sure that Nick lied to her about not paying attention, she could still feel his eyes on her back. It confused the woman since she did not know the reason behind the silent attention. 

“Welcome.” Came the reply a moment later as Nick finally left the office and joined Cyra by her side. 

“I hope you did not find any viruses in your system, huh?” The woman smirked over her shoulder as she found some submarine gun ammunition in the old pockets of the deceased individual. Valentine did not answer, he found himself staring at the ripped posters promoting Vault-Tec on the wall. 

“I have a friend that came from one of those Vaults. He is currently the head of the Minutemen if my memory does not fail me. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.” Nick commented after running his naked metal fingers across the advertisement. Cyra, on the other hand, cringed as she heard the faction this Vault Dweller belonged to. She instantly remembered all those sleepless nights back at the Outpost Zimonja when her father would complain about how ignorant the Minutemen were and how much he despised them. The Outpost was constantly attacked by feral ghouls or super mutants; and the bravery of the soldiers that promised to liberate the whole Commonwealth had vanished. There were only two more survivors before Cyra’s father decided it was time to leave the damned place and go somewhere quiet and independent. 

“Never trust the Minutemen, Cyra.” Father used to say in the morning after the young girl would awaken in her bed. “Never trust those who make big promises that will never be fulfilled.”  
“A survivor from the Vault that decided to become the king of the Commonwealth?” Cyra smirked and shook her head after reloading her pistol and checking the barrel. “I wanna to see that fool and remind him that there are people superior to him.” 

“You know such people?” Nick asked with a note of amusement in his voice. His golden eyes travelled down Cyra’s face to her hands which began to spin the gun out of boredom.  
“Cloven is one of them. Believe me, Nick, no matter how good your friend might be with his novice luck, there are only a handful of people that ever dared to stand up against the White Raven. I researched those people after hacking one of the terminals in the abandoned buildings near the Combat Zone, and I found out that all those brave souls were mercilessly killed by the Raider himself.” The woman tossed a strand of her hair aside and looked up at the synth whose lips remained in the formation of a soft smile. 

“And what makes you think that my friend can't stand up to Cloven, or even kill him?”  
“I saw what Cloven did, Valentine,” Cyra sighed and pushed her pistol into the small holster on the back of her hip. “I saw his eyes and I could taste the sinister in him. He is a madman that is obsessed with blood, and he can easily make up a plan after another fails. Besides, if your friend even tries…” The woman paused and stared down at the ground where her feet were. A long silence followed forcing Nick to drown in a great sea of confusion since he knew that Cyra never went into such a long pause unless the topic was heavy. 

“Even if he tries...what will happen, Cyra?” Valentine resisted the urge to come closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. All he wished is to end her suffering and set her free from the constant feeling of being haunted by Cloven’s men. Out of all people, Cyra never deserved such a life. 

“Even if he tries, I will have to kill him.” The woman sharply snapped her head back up and stared into a yellow glowing pair of eyes. Valentine was suddenly startled by it, if he could shiver he surely would’ve felt the coldness spreading along his body that came from Cyra’s gaze. “I will deal with Cloven and no one else. If someone dares to kill him before me, I will find that person, and I will put a bullet in their head.” The woman huffed and turned around her heels before walking away and jogging up the stairs to investigate the other rooms. The detective remained in the hallway, his eyes following Cyra but his legs motionless. This woman was loyal to revenge, and Valentine disliked the idea of her killing Sole or anyone else that would stand in her way; deep inside he did understand her side though, it was only a matter of time and effort to find out more about what has been cooped inside this woman’s tiny body.  
“Wait up, kid.” Valentine called after her once he came back to reality from his deep thought. He rushed to get upstairs and catch up with Cyra before she would proceed further into exploring without him.  
☢ ☢ ☢

“Cloven? Heh, Raven of the rotten sky, how long has it been?” A Gunner with a raspy voice broke into a laughter as he saw the Raider jump down from an old shack’s roof and through a bloodied limb of some individual over his shoulder. The white-haired man looked up and broke into a smile as he noticed his old friend standing in a worn uniform with a double-barreled shotgun in his hands.

“Marcus Schnatz, been a bloody while if you ask me.” Cloven brushed his hands together as if getting rid of the thick blanket of blood was that easy. He walked over to the Gunner who in his role refused to shake hands for a valid reason and simply exchanged a grateful nod.

“What are you doing here? I thought you always stayed in the Combat Zone without leaving?” The Gunner smirked, his dark hazel eyes scanned Cloven’s appearance. This time this maniac was wearing a long dark trench coat with worn black pants and a shirt of the same dark hue. His white hair was tied back into a high ponytail so the locks would not get in the way of his murdering spree. The man’s pale eyes were piercing even though it always felt like he was never looking at the person he was speaking to. That was the deadly catch about Cloven, this cold-blooded killer liked to use his charisma for his advantage and stab everyone in the back when the time was right. His eye hue sometimes was mistaken for blindness, so some naive bandits were throwing themselves into a trap if they wished to play games with Cloven. 

“I'm having some fun, collecting debts, breathing in the fresh air, you know?” The Raider replied with a cheeky smile. His eyes narrowed at the Gunner as if he was thinking about the fate this man will have at the end of their sudden meeting.  
“I see that they didn't pay in time.” Marcus chuckled as he nodded toward a pile of bloodied bodies near the shack. One of them was mercilessly dismembered, only a torso and a head identified that it was a male.  
“Fresh air? How many jets did you inhale this time?” The Gunner arched his scarred eyebrow. The man shifted from one leg to another, the barrel of his gun dropping down since it was clear there was no danger anymore.  
“I don’t use chems, Marcus. I thought you remembered it from our first meeting, or at least had a better opinion of me.” Cloven mocked disappointment as if the other man deeply offended him. He walked over to the bodies and picked up a scarf that was left in a decent condition, wiped his hands, and looked back at the Gunner with a widening smile. “What are you doing here?”

“My team settled under the bridge just a little west from here. They sent me out to scavenge the nearby buildings and find any supplies I could. We just came back from a random attack that the Minutemen decided to organize to defend some outpost. We were taken by surprise and lost a man.” Marcus shrugged his shoulders and turned his head to gaze at the painful horizon of the ruined world.  
“Is that all?” Cloven sounded bored since hearing about failure and death in some small battle was a dry subject to talk to him about. 

“I also heard that there was a Drifter camp attacked by a Mirelurk King. One of my men said that he saw the survivors run from the place through a backdoor of some building. A dog, a woman, and some odd man that looked sketchy from the distance in his trench coat and a hat.” The Gunner explained; his right hand left his shotgun and brushed back his spiky black locks. Cloven shook his head, even though the eerie trio did catch his interest.  
“How did the woman look? Did he give a description?” 

“No, only that she was saying something about the Glowing Sea, escaping the area, and something else that did not matter at all. They looked like that had somewhere to be.” Marcus repeated his partner’s words and then stuttered as he saw Cloven’s tall figure shift closer with a hungry look in his eyes. 

“The Glowing Sea? Why would anyone visit that godforsaken place?” The man whispered as he came closer to the Gunner, his pale eyes narrowing with curiosity. 

“I-I don’t know. I told you exactly what I was told from the scout. Do you think it’s her?” Marcus licked his dried lips from the sudden knot of worry that appeared in his chest. He surely disliked the way Cloven was gaping at him. “Raven?”  
“Only one way to find out.” The Raider replied after a pause. His eyes focused on Schnatz before he took a step back. “I'm gonna pay a visit to the radiation abyss and see if your scout was truthful. If my prediction is true, I might as well have some fun.” The Raven smirked as a long sniper rifle emerged from a holster that held the weapon on the man’s back. The scope had a skull of some bird fixated on top above the lens. The body of the gun was painted black with a bold white design of wings on both sides. The Gunner smirked as he studied the infamous weapon that Cloven never parted with. 

“Going hunting with Osiris again?” Marcus smirked and mocked a small bow for the other man. “Good luck.” He said and turned around, taking step forward to leave but he immediately froze as he heard a clicking sound of reloading. Then a suppressed gunshot was heard and everything went dark for the Gunner as his head was pierced by a bullet. The man fell to the ground, lifeless, a puddle of thick oozing blood formed like a halo around his head. Cloven hummed as he lowered his rifle, his eyes filled with hatred toward the Gunner as he scanned his pathetic motionless body on the floor. 

“No one dares to call my rifle by a name without my permission. You know the rules Marcus, you call Osiris by her name and death will come.” The White Raven spit on the ground and gently placed the gun into the holster on his back. Then, he slowly turned around and left the bloody scene as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon.  
☢ ☢ ☢

“Are you sure you have enough RadAways?” Valentine questioned after he was finally done with fixing the screw in his right hand. It took a while to deal with the screwdriver that Cyra let him borrow since for some unknown reason he had lost his. He knew that he had a few spare ones in the cabinet back at his agency, but they were far away from Diamond City and with a different objective.  
“Nick, I have a Hazmat suit, calm down.” The woman said over her shoulder with a low chuckle. She had placed all of her aid objects on the floor before her to make a good count of them and make sure they did not need to throw themselves into a search of a passing caravan to get more. “Twenty RadAways, some Rad-X, a few Stimpaks…”

“How many?” The synth arched his barely visible brow as he leaned on his other leg to see over Cyra’s shoulder. 

“How many what?” 

“Stimpaks.”

“Oh...well, I have like six, but we have lots of food supply. You are carrying some of those sugar bombs. I have three blood packs.” The woman sounded puzzled since Nick’s sudden concern had startled her. 

“Cyra, have you ever heard what’s Glowing Sea like?” The man questioned with his head cocked to the side; his expression was dark, disapproving of Cyra not being prepared enough. 

“There is a lot of radiation that can kill a man.” The woman replied, pushing her hair back away from her face and then quickly gather the supplies back into an organized pile. 

“And what does radiation produce?”

“Mutations.”

“And?” Valentine extended every vowel in hopes of making Cyra finally realize the dangers of the radioactive abyss. 

“And what, Nick, what are you trying to say?” The woman barked and stood up, her expression becoming annoyed from the ignorance. 

“Cyra, you know that Deathclaw you barely killed?” Nick crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his head toward the can of Pork n’ Beans in her hand. “Six stimpaks and some food will not save you from the extreme dangers of the Glowing Sea. Things there are much worse, believe me. Sole and I have been there once. I have seen things that you would not even have a nightmare about.” 

“So you’re saying I'm weak?”

“I am trying to get through your head a possibility of us encountering something worse than anything you have ever seen before. I want you to be cautious and if we can avoid any conflict, at least as big as a Deathclaw, I will be more than grateful.” Valentine concluded with a smile growing over his scarred lips. 

“Grateful?” Cyra huffed and opened the can. “For what?”

“Grateful that I don’t have to save your ass over and over again.”

“Oh please! Don’t choke on pride Valentine. Just because you saved my life a few times doesn’t mean that you’re a hero of the Commonwealth.” Cyra turned her head away from the synth who clearly knew what he was talking about, but she never liked to be wrong. “One day, it will cost you dearly. So let me handle things more independently please.” The woman sighed and gestured for the man to follow her. 

“Let’s go, we're almost at the Glowing Sea.” She said and quickly jumped into the Hazmat suit that she left lying on the ground next to her gun. Cyra placed the helmet over her head and took a deep breath. “How do I look?”

“Like a big sign saying 'here, eat me'.” Valentine chuckled and looked over Cyra’s hidden body in the orange shield from the radiation. She looked like something from another world, perhaps a crashed space ship that left only her as a survivor. Digging deep into the old Nick’s memories, the synth recalled an old word astronaut that beautifully described the woman’s current look in one piece, but Valentine wasn't sure if the woman will understand a term from 200 years ago. 

“I swear Nick, one day something will happen and it will shut your smart mouth up for a long time.” Cyra grumbled over her shoulder as she began walking toward the direction of the Sea. Valentine only rolled his eyes and laughed, following the lady and her rainy cloud above her head. 

☢ ☢ ☢

“Over here!” Nate shouted at Hancock as the ghoul shot the last radiated scorpion that came dangerously close to the party. The man turned his head and saw Sole gesturing toward a cave opening that could’ve served a great hiding place from the giant monsters. They were chasing the duo from the very beginning as they entered the Glowing Sea grounds. Sole managed to kill off some of them, as well as his companion, but because of the loud sounds of their guns, more monsters showed up. 

“On it.” John replied and hurried away from the flooding scorpions. He just reached Nate’s side as suddenly a loud roar was heard from the distance. The two exchanged alerted glances, knowing that a passing Deathclaw had heard their gunshots and became curious of the source. It was seconds before they saw a large pair of horns appear from the peak of the hill, not long before the whole glowing body of a monster appeared.  
“Hancock, get into the cave. Now.” Nate commanded as he pulled several fragmentation mines out of nowhere. He activated the trigger and threw them on the ground before the entrance as the Deathclaw noticed the company and began charging forward. John only nodded his head and obeyed the order immediately. Soon, a loud explosion was heard and the ground seemed to turn upside down in a disturbing shake. All four mines were triggered and the Deathclaw seemed to receive a large amount damage, hopefully even crippled if they were lucky. Sole had made it into the cave just in time for the detonation, and now him and Hancock were sitting on the dark floor and listening to the howling roars of the wounded creature outside. 

“Nice.” The ghoul commented after he caught his breath. His black eyes scanned the surroundings, making sure that there were no other dangers awaiting in the darkness of the cave. His gun rested near his right thigh, fully loaded in case the Deathlaw decided to come inside their hiding place. 

“Thanks.” Sole replied with a sigh and a smile crossing his lips. He was really proud of himself since he had to improvise in the eyes of fear. It wasn’t the first time Nate got to be a hero with a random idea, but it felt good anyways. “Alright, I think he is gone. Are you ready to find those obsessed freaks?” 

“Hell yeah.” Hancock smirked and lifted his body from the ground, taking his gun into both of his hands and pointing the double barrels at the cave’s entrance. “Let’s get this freak show on the road.”  
Carefully, the duo proceeded outside of the cave. Their guns pointed at all directions, hoping not to miss any moving detail that would end their lives in a second. Everything seemed to calm down in the endless raging radiation storm. The scorpions had scuttled away and the Deathclaw was nowhere to be seen. 

“Alright, stand down.” Nate instructed after the coast was clear and put his Gauss rifle away. Hancock followed his command and huffed and he pulled out a jet from his pocket behind his back.  
“You owe me a drink once we get back.” The ghoul said and pressed the inhaler against his thin lips. He drew a large amount an exhaled with a long satisfied groan. The effect of the drug played its part right away as the man stopped at once and stared at the dark green sky above. He looked like he was fascinated by the thick cover of irradiated clouds and lightning somewhere in the distance. Sole waited patiently as he looked over the perimeter from time to time, waiting for his companion to finish with his high. 

“You owe me Magnolia’s full concert.” The man murmured with a smirk as he watched the ghoul smile wide.  
“Done.” Hancock laughed and stared at Nate with his gaping darkness. The ghoul needed to relax after the stressful hours after their entrance to the Glowing Sea. Even though radiation was his friend, the man still disliked being surrounded by it in such a high quantity. 

“Look alive.” Sole commented after he approached the mayor of Goodneighbor and placed his hand on the other’s shoulder, shaking him slightly.  
“I hope you realize what you’re sayin’.” John mumbled and then shook his head from side to side, trying to get rid of the high faster. The jet finally vanished and the ghoul took a deep breath to then slowly exhale and regain his sober consciousness. 

“Are you ready to go? We're almost there.” Nate spoke softly, trying to be careful and no startle the ghoul that has just exited his little paradise.  
“Yea, let’s go.” Hancock blinked a few times and then took several steps forward before proceeding to follow the Sole Survivor to the heart of the crater where the Children of Atom had established their divine lair.  
☢ ☢ ☢

The sky began to change from a tolerable grey to a maddening green. Clouds began to thicken, their heavy mass looming over the irradiated ground below the feet that stepped light against the dry surface. The distant sounds of crawling enemies echoed throughout the pools of orange atomic mess. Those disfigured mutants bathed in radiation as if it was the Holy Grail of the world, at least that is what they saw it as.  
The White Raven gradually made his way deeper into the radiated territory. His eyes barely scanned the surroundings since he knew there was nothing to fear, at least for now. He had one objective in his mind and nothing could stop him at this point. 

Cloven softly stroked the rear of his gun that swung slightly on his back from time to time. He brought his hand back a little more to pull out a long dagger from a pocket of his holster. The knife was custom made: the blade curved upward and its handle carved into a cunning design of a raven biting into a neck of a Deathclaw. The sharp weapon went by the name of Neith and served its role well in ending worthless lives by Cloven’s judgement.  
The Raider spun the dagger with his fingers, letting the blade slice the thick air around it. The tension grew in the air and the man knew that a storm was coming as he came closer to the destination where the heart of the Sea rested.  
“Alright little mouse, where are you?” The man whispered as he pressed his right shoulder against a solid rock formation on the top of the hill that overlooked the settlement of the Children of Atom. He also found those freaks fascinating since they were the only ones that lived in such a dangerous location and manage to worship it. 

Osiris slid into Cloven’s hands from behind, the focused scope navigated from one person to another, trying to aim at any familiar face. All the man could register is the dirty faces of the worshippers, kneeling before the crater with their hands in the air. The Raven shook his head and lowered his gun with a short sigh. Patience was his best friend now and by his training he had to sit back and wait until the desired objective resolved itself before him.  
Cloven climbed the rocks near him and situated himself rather comfortably in between two sharp formations. A paradise for a sniper whom is ready to wait for hours before the target of interest would show up. 

“I can send all of you to the Underworld, scum.” Cloven whispered under his breath as he stroked the side of his gun. “You should be thankful that today Osiris is hungry for one life.”

☢ ☢ ☢

“The Atom is our life. He showed us the true path and we shall be forever thankful.” A preaching voice of the settler echoed throughout the crater even though the two individuals he was speaking to were right before him. 

“Yeah alright, have you seen a tall man with short brown hair, green eyes, and constantly complaining about the Minutemen?” Cyra asked impatiently, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the preacher’s appearance. Valentine was right, those people were freaks. 

“And why should I give out such information?” The man questioned, his eyes barely focused on the woman. 

“Because that man is my father and there is a possibility that he might be here.” Cyra crossed her arms and shifted from one leg to another. She was beginning to get mad at the priest since he was clearly only interested in speaking about his “God” and nothing else. 

“If the man was here, we would’ve known him. I saw no one matching your description, thus your father did not accept the Atom.” The man continued, swaying from side to side as if in trance.  
“I swear I will throw you to the Deathclaws if you won’t-” The woman began to rage but was suddenly cut off by a heavy gloved hand on her shoulder. 

“The lady means to apologize before you. She only wanted to find her father and spread the word of Atom if he was a part of you.” A tall man with in a Minuteman uniform stood by her side with a soft smile across his thin perfect lips. His eyes were glued to the priest before him, his whole posture speaking of power and confidence. Behind him, stood another man, a ghoul to be precise. He wore some ancient clothing that belonged to the pre-war era and a tricorn over his disfigured head. The man noticed Cyra’s gaze and smiled at her with a short bow of his head. The woman sharply turned her head away, feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

“Ah, I see.” The priest’s attitude suddenly changed, his facial expression easing off. Cyra was taken aback by how easily this stranger convinced the preacher, as if his charisma level was way above any standards. “A man did come through a few weeks ago. He was wearing some heavy armor and his face was covered with a mask. He did mention a name when he spoke to one of our brothers.”

“May you tell us the name?” Sole continued, the smile never leaving his lips. 

“Cyra.” 

“Cyra? Who might that be?” Nate burrowed his brows since the information had puzzled him.

“It’s me.” The woman replied immediately inverting the attention to herself. She brushed her hair back and tried to straighten up even more to make herself look taller even though she was a head shorter than the men before her. “That was my father, I'm sure of it!” She said, unable to contain a wave of sudden joy. Sole scanned the woman from head to toe carefully as if he wasn’t sure she was real or not; he looked back at the priest.  
“Are you sure you don’t remember what the man looked like?” 

“No. All I saw was his black armor and a long gun on his back. He was wondering if this girl had ever appeared here.” The man said and took a deep breath. “Now if you excuse me, I must pay my respects to Atom, I hope you join us.” He finished and left the party standing and gazing at each other. 

“Valentine, I'm both surprised and glad to see you.” Nate spoke after looking away from the woman. “Trying to solve a case with another lost family member?”

“As you can see.” Nick replied with a short nod and a smile since he was happy to finally see his old friend reigning in the Commonwealth as always. 

“Your lovely companion has some nerve.” Hancock added into the conversation with a cunning murmur. “I wonder what she is capable of.” 

“You wanna find out?” Cyra snapped at the ghoul and glared at him. “I need to find my father, he's all I have left.”

“I'm sorry, my friend here was simply trying to ease the tension.” Sole smiled and extended his hand forward for a greeting. “Name’s Nate, I’m the-”

“Vault Dweller and the Minutemen General trying to rescue every innocent soul in the Wasteland. Yes, Valentine told me all about you.” Cyra rolled her eyes, refusing to shake the offered hand. “I am Cyra as you may know now.”

“Pleasure.” Sole replied, pulling his hand away in the awkward pause. He cleared his throat and looked around, his eyes trying to find any sign of the hostages that Preston had mentioned. Everything seemed to be the same as he saw at his previous visits to the Glowing Sea. Could Garvey possibly be mistaken? That didn't seem right, Preston was never mistaken.

“Why are you here? I am sure you’re not praying to the bomb, huh?” Cyra questioned as she followed Sole’s gaze. 

“No. I have some business here to take care of.” Nate smiled and returned his eyes to the woman. “I wish you the best luck in finding your father. I know what’s it like to lose a family member, and go through hell to find them.” The man’s eyes became saddened as his thoughts returned to Nora and Shaun. It had been a while since he talked to the synth that was roaming Sanctuary and calling him dad.  
“Thank you.” Cyra replied, easing off her annoyance and returning a smile. “I have Valentine and so far he has been a big help.” She reached over and wrapped her arm around Nick’s, pressing her side to his in a quick gesture of gratitude. The synth simply stared at her, unable to reply since this was the first time she had ever done this. Nate laughed as he noticed Nick’s startled state and waved his hand dismissively. 

“I hope our roads cross again.” 

“Of course they will, such randomness is not an accident.” Cyra grinned and took a step forward in order to reach her hand out for an invitation for a friendlier handshake. Perhaps this man wasn’t as bad she expected him to be. He also did not seem to be so obsessed with the Minutemen ideology as she thought.

“You’re right.” Sole smiled and grasped Cyra’s hand tightly in a silent promise. Suddenly his smile disappeared as he heard a sharp shot. A large crimson spot appeared on Cyra’s right side, beginning to swiftly expand over her coat and a shirt underneath. The woman gasped and stared down at her bloodied body.

“What t-the hell?” She shuddered and fell on her knees. Blood began to pour down her hands as she pressed them against the wound, choking in shock of what was happening. Valentine immediately pushed forward and pointed his gun toward the direction of the shot; so did Sole after commanding Hancock to bring her into the available house while the residents of this settlement ran around in panic.  
The sniper was never to be seen as if he was the ghost that vanished. Nick and Sole exchanged a worried look before slowly walking backwards into the house. Cyra was losing blood and fast, they had to do something quick.  
“Get the stimpaks.” Nate commanded to Hancock as he threw the pouch full of aid forward.

“You think this was a trap?” Valentine asked, worried as he carefully pulled off Cyra’s coat, trying to not add any pain to already screaming agony she was in. The woman managed to pass out in time from shock and pain which gave the men an advantage of curing her easily without worrying of making her hurt even more. 

“I don’t see it otherwise.” Sole admitted and took a deep breath as he carefully pushed the needle into the bloodied flesh on Cyra’s side, letting the healing liquid ooze into her body. “You know who would be the guilty bastard?” He asked over his shoulder, his hand pressing against the wound and trying to see where the bullet went. 

“I'm not sure, but I may have an idea.” Nick said slowly, as if trying to reassure himself that the attacker wasn’t the person he was thinking of. 

“Shit.” Sole suddenly cursed as he noticed another forming wound on the woman’s other side. “That fucking bullet went all the way through her body. How the hell is that even possible?”

“Fuck, that’s one hell of a powerful gun…” Hancock swallowed, his eyes widening in disbelief. 

“Dammit give me another stimpak. We need to get her out of here, the radiation won’t help. We will get back to Sanctuary, I have a great medic there.” Nate carefully brushed Cyra’s cheek that was also covered in blood. Suddenly shots began to rain from the outside, the people screaming and falling on the ground.

“We are being attacked!” The priest from before appeared in the house, his eyes panicked looking from man to man and then Cyra’s body on the floor. 

“How many?” Nick asked sternly, getting up from the dusty ground.

“One.” The preacher replied, choking on his breath. 

“What?” The trio said simultaneously. 

“We are under attack from one man…”


	4. A Raven's Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of flashbacks of White Raven's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter consists of Cloven's memories that will provide more background information, as well as toward the end there will be foreshadowing for the next chapter. Enjoy~

_“Tell me, what’s it like being alone in this world.”_  
_“What do you think?”_  
_“No family, no friends, and no one to come back to during a rainy day.”_  
_“I like rain.”_  
_“Because that is the only thing that seems to inspire you?”_  
_“Why do you care?”_  
_“I don’t. I am simply curious.”_  
_“How about you shut your fucking mouth and leave me alone? I am busy.”_  
_“Busy doing what? Aiming at your next target? Did you think about it before you accepted the contract, hmm? Maybe they have a family, a loved one, a dear friend. Of course, you would never understand what’s it like losing someone so dear to you…”_  
_“Shut up! You don’t know me!”_  
_“Because you’re no one.”_  
_“Shut up!”_  
_“Where is your family, hmm? Did they support you when you needed them? Of course it does not matter now. They're dead. All of them.”_  
_“Shut the fuck up or you will be my next target, Marcus.”_  
_“You can’t kill me because I am the only person that gives a shit about you, Cloven.”_

☢ ☢ ☢

The leafless trees stood like statues along the broken cemented road. The ground was cracked and barely touched by anyone’s foot, showing that no one had used the alley in a long time. A large crowd of people dressed in long dark robes made their way through the concrete serpent which lead to the cemetery up ahead. In the middle of the gathering, several people were carrying a handmade casket, created from rotten wood and steel, decorated just with several bloodflowers and leaves.  
One of the men that was in in from of the crowd carried a gun as a precaution, in case some uninvited guests decided to make an appearance from the surrounding hills. The other male next to him held a basket full of mutfruit and several daggers surrounding it for a later ritual that was to serve as a farewell to the deceased.  
“Just a little longer, we're almost there.” A thin female voice came from within the crowd followed by a sniffle from her companion. It was a young man, perhaps in his mid teenage years. His robe was a little worn but served as an excellent disguise from the surrounding procession. The only thing that glued attention to him was his white hair that seemed to reflect the sun above his head. He was the only boy in his tribe that stood out with this trait; some people even spread a rumor of him being a synth from the Institute or a bastard child from another part of the world.

  
“The boy is bad luck. He took Evangeline away from us.” A hushed voice came from the rear of the mourning crowd.

  
“She was our best warrior and now we are left with a half of our defense and a fraction of any kind of joy.” Another voice supported, sounding closer to the young man.  
“The bastard child is the plague of our family…”

  
“Hey! Shut your fucking mouth back there and give some respect! You can continue your foolish complaining in your rotten homes!” A deeper voice coming from a tall man suddenly broke the whispers and startled half of the crowd. The hood of the male slid down as he snapped his head back to glare at the ignorant bastards who dared to speak. It was a black-haired man with hazy blue eyes that gave an impression of blindness, although he could clearly see everything around him. His jawline flexed indicating his annoyance. “My son has nothing to do with the death of my dear daughter. So I suggest you keep quiet unless you want to end up in a casket of your own.”

  
“James,” a female voice near him called out. “Keep your threat for later, please.”

  
“Yes, dear.” The man complied and turned away, pulling his hood back over his head.

  
“Thank you.” The woman replied, wrapping her shaking hands around her husband’s arm, clutching to his bicep as if it was the only thing keeping her balance.

  
“Cloven,” James called for his son’s attention, forcing the boy’s eyes meet his father’s. “You're my son, do not let anyone break you because you're different. We have the same eyes, you have your mother’s face, and your sister’s wit. Never forget it.”

  
“Yes, father…”

  
The funeral was silent. The two men who were elected to lower the casket into the ground also performed the ritual by smashing the mutfruit into one lilac paste and painting the symbol of parting on the lid of the casket. It was a small swan with its wings spreading wide over the lid and down to the edges of the casket’s walls. James and his wife walked closer and looked down at their daughter’s pale face.  
Evangeline was a beautiful young woman in the tribe. She had her mother’s brown eyes and her father’s long black hair, and she at the age of 16 decided to cut it into a rebellious style inspired by a woman she saw in Diamond City. Her parents had to give up since there was nothing they could do about it and had to wait until their daughter grew more mature.

  
“My young dearest…” The woman fell her to her knees in front of the casket and began weeping, covering her face with her hands. Her husband stood silently next to her, his head hanging low as he tried to block out everything around him. Young Cloven situated on the other side of the casket, his fingertips brushing the swan’s purple feathers that one of the men drew in the detail of the symbol. His pale eyes never left his sister’s face as if he was waiting for her to suddenly wake up and announce another successful prank she loved to pull from time to time. But nothing happened of that sort. She was lying there, motionless.

  
“Cloven…” James called.  
“Father, I know.” The boy replied and stood back, letting the men close the lid and lower the casket into the grave. Soon, the wooden surface was hidden under the thickening dirt. His mother continued to weep while his father held her by the shoulders and helped her to her feet. Cloven remained silent, his eyes glued to the ground in which his sister was now situated. He was not sure what to do, Evangeline was always the one inspiring him and his source of motivation. He knew his father will expect him to take the responsibilities, and Cloven was simply puzzled at the whole existence around him. His sister was the only light he saw in this dark tribe and with her gone, he has the urge to run away. Far, far away.  
☢ ☢ ☢

“Cloven, you son of a radroach, where the hell did you put my ammo?” James roared throughout the house the family had moved into three months after Evangeline’s death. The mother fell sick from her everlasting depression and barely spoke to anyone as she stayed in her bedroom. His father became more strict, especially toward Cloven, since the young man was already at the appropriate age to take on more than just fighting and protecting the family and the tribe.  
“They are in your drawer!” Cloven shouted from his room as he polished the blades his father ordered him to.  
“Watch your tone, you little rat! I don’t want to waste those bullets on you hollow head, understood!?” James raged, his whole body radiating trouble.  
“Yes, father.”

  
☢ ☢ ☢

  
“Cloven, what are you doing?” Evangeline hummed as she studied her brother surrounded by flowers he has picked.The young boy huffed and showed her a wide oval made out of thin stems of random plants that managed to survive the fallout.

  
“It’s a flower crown.” Cloven spat; he was upset about the creation not being as perfect as he planned.

  
“A flower crown without flowers.” The girl laughed and lifted herself on her elbows.

  
“Well sorry, I am not about to go to a swamp and pick bloodflowers, or wherever the hell they grow.” The white-haired boy replied as he leaned over and placed the crown over Evangeline’s head, tucking her sleek black hair back behind her pale ears. “Now you look like a proper ruler.” He announced with a hum of approval.

  
“A ruler of what?” The girl wondered with a widening smile. It always amused her how caring Cloven was and now much he tried to earn her admiration.

  
“Of the Commonwealth.” Cloven responded with a proud nod. “I want everyone to know that my sister can kick anyone’s butt without even putting effort into it!”

  
“Oh hush.” Evangeline laughed as she sat up and crossed her legs. Her fingertips brushed the crown on her head, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Cloven, I need to tell you something.”

  
“What’s up?”

  
“You see the White Swan over there?” Evangeline began as she nodded toward a sniper rifle that was lying not far away from them. It was painted white at the best ability of the artist that was customizing it for the girl. The rear of the gun had a design of a swan’s head painted in thin black lines. After Cloven nodded, the girl picked the rifle up and placed it in front of him. “I want you to have it.”

  
“What?” Her brother’s eyes widened as he stared up at his sister in disbelief. “No...No way. Don’t you dare imply that-”

  
“I will die young, Cloven. My job as the protector of this tribe at the age of seventeen does not promise a long, nor happy life. Every time I go out there with a group, I am the only one that comes back. And every time I leave, I meet a monster tougher than the previous. One day, I will not come-”

  
“No! Shut up! Don’t you dare die, Evangeline!” Cloven snapped, cutting his sister off, and pushing the rifle toward her. “The Swan is your companion, she is your protector. She will never let you down!” The boy’s eyes began to gather up tears, small wet streaks already crawling down his cheeks.

  
“Cloven…” Evangeline sighed and reached out for her brother, but her hand was painfully slapped away. The boy jumped to his feet and angrily wiped away the tears, even though more kept coming.

  
“I will not forgive you, nor anyone else, if you die!” He shouted before running away. “Never forgive!”

☢ ☢ ☢

He sat at the edge of the cliff, his legs hanging down and slowly swinging from side to side. A rifle, painted black, pressed against his left shoulder, its sides decorated with a thin design that looked like a white wingspan.  
The man wore a long black cloak, ripped at the end of the flaps; a few buttons were missing which prevented the man from closing up in his disguise completely. A gentle blow of the wind played with the white strands of his hair while he watched the scenery on the road beneath him.  
It was another funeral that his tribe had organized and this time there were two caskets. It was a young woman and man who were enveloped in the bond of marriage; both sick and tired of the constant reminder of loss of their precious daughter in their son’s eyes. Their last days they spent yelling back and forth with violence occurring from time to time. Cloven always took the beating from his father since seeing his mother already sick and pained was too much for him.

  
“Brothers and sisters,” a so-called priest held his hands up in the air and began the ceremony. “Today we are solemnly letting go of our most loved and respected family members: James and Marianna. Let them reunite with their daughter in the world of paradise and may they taste the fruit that this earth lost decades ago.” The man chimed as he drew the farewell symbols shaped as a wolf and a dove on the caskets.

  
“It’s the boy. I told you he was the death of us. The curse of our tribe from his very birth!” A shaking voice came from the crowd, followed by a supporting hum of two others. The priest seemed to not notice as he continued his prayers as the caskets were lowered into the ground.

  
“Cloven is a parasite. The bastard son of the Devil!” One of the people exclaimed suddenly, making the whole group freeze and turn their attention to them. A tall man emerged from the crowd, pulling his hood down sharply. “Don’t you see? He's causing all of the deaths in our home! We need to get rid of him, we have to-” The man suddenly froze as he stared up ahead of him, his eyes motionless like two fragile glass spheres. There was a hole in his head, blood streaming down to his face and dripping from his chin. A gasp scattered over the crowd as they quickly turned around to gaze at the source of the shot.

  
Cloven was standing on the cliff, his rifle firmly pressed in his hands as he stared at the people. He watched the body of the man collapse to the ground before turning away and leaving the cemetery area.  
“I never forgive.” He whispered to the wind and pushed his hood back up to hide his face in the shadows as he left the tribe with no intention of coming back.

☢ ☢ ☢

“And why the hell should I let you join the Gunners after you took out five of them right in front of me?” The leader of the infamous gang stared at Cloven, his eyes burning with anger after his men were picked off within seconds.

  
“I'm sure you don't want more corpses to show up at your door.” Cloven smirked as he stroked the rear of his rifle with his thumb. The gun was already reloaded and ready to fire upon demand if the situation required. Marcus stared at him for a moment, thinking whether it was wise to pull out his revolver or comply to the request. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

  
“Fine... Have it your way. But if you dare to betray us, I will personally cut your throat.” Marcus barked and pointed up to the bridge where their main base was located.

  
“You can try.” Cloven purred as he pushed his hood over his head and made his way up to the hideout.

  
At first, the Gunners disliked the new recruit. They were concerned of his odd appearance, his behavior, and his gun that never left his side. One night, at the campfire that Marcus managed to start on the cemented ground of the bridge, Cloven had just returned from a little scout missions and joined the drinking Gunners. He brought plenty of supplies, enough to give them a surplus. They could sell them to Raiders and scoundrels for their cruel and nefarious needs, simply to get a sackful of caps.

  
“Ah, it’s the White Raven.” Marcus smirked as he drew a deep breath from the jet he was holding against his lips. The other men only glanced at Cloven before returning to their own business.

  
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Cloven sighed as he sat down near the fire and threw a bag full of Deathclaw meat near Marcus’s legs. The man laughed and began to place the slices on the rods over the fire, smacking his lips over the good dinner they will have today.

  
“Why not? Look at your hair.” The Gunner laughed, still recovering from his high. “Your skills are exceptional and your looks are unique. Every freak has a second name.” He shrugged and locked his eyes with Cloven.

  
“I am not a freak.” The white-haired man snapped and began to clean his rifle. “Call me whatever you want, I'm still the one bringing food to your table.”  
“No one is complaining.” Marcus shrugged and held his hands up in submission. “We’re grateful to have you on our side, but my people are concerned about your gun.” The man narrowed his eyes and gazed at Cloven’s rifle suspiciously. “Why is it the way it is…”

  
“You all have guns at your side without a rest. Leave me alone, M.” Cloven snapped after pulling one of the fried pieces from the rods and onto his plate. The Deathclaw meat was bitter to the taste, but after finding out that the mutfruit juice blended perfectly with the rebellious flavor, Cloven stopped cringing at every bite.

  
“I just want to know its story. You’re the only one here who has such an adeptly decorated gun. I’m sure you have a reason behind it.”

  
“Well,” Cloven took a deep breath and looked at his rifle lying next to him, the white design glowing in the dim light of the fire. “This rifle belonged to my sister, may she rest in peace. It was white before it got to me. I painted it black for two reasons: so it would not be seen when I hunt and because it represents the loss I suffered.”

  
“Hmm.” Marcus nodded slowly, scanning the rifle carefully as if it was the first time he saw it. “What is the purpose of this gun, Cloven?”  
“What do you mean?”

  
“What is the purpose of your kill?” The man repeated as he took a bite of the meat and chewed on it, his eyes squinting from the explosive flavor. Cloven passed the mutfruit juice to ease the man’s suffering before responding.

  
“I kill because I think people do not deserve their lives as they have lived them. My gun serves justice by sending those into the darkness and giving a chance to be reborn as someone better.” Cloven shrugged without really thinking about what he was saying. He always considered his every kill fair and reasonable; people had nothing in this world and instead of making their lives better, they ruined it by the wrath of sin and villainy. He hated it; hated the people of his tribe, his parents, his sister who ruined all the promises he was given.

  
“Osiris.” Marcus suddenly said, pulling Cloven out of his deep thought.  
“What?”  
“Name your gun Osiris.” The man smirked, wiping his hands on the side of his trousers. “I found this old preserved book in the library during one of our scout quests. It was some Egyptian civilization that existed a very long time ago. And so I looked into a chapter about their Gods and Goddesses, and there was this one fella called Osiris. He basically was guiding souls into the underworld as well as symbolizing rebirth.” Marcus smirked, feeling as if he was the most educated man in the Commonwealth. “Judging by your views, he suits your gun perfectly. I mean think about it, you’re like a God in a sense…”

  
“Shut up, M.” Cloven rolled his eyes and stroked the side of his rifle. “Osiris...sounds like a forbidden name. I like it.” He simpered and nodded his head approvingly.  
“Osiris?” Suddenly one of the Gunners poked their head up from their sleeping bag,a mocking tone rising in their voice. “What kind of an absurd name is that?”  
‘Cloven-” Marcus tried to speak to the man knowing that the white-haired miracle despised  
when someone mocked him or anything he did, however it was too late. The sniper rifle was raised and aimed right at the Gunner’s head before pulling the trigger and exploding the top of his head into a bloody mess. Other people around the deadman shouted in horror and pushed away from the scattering blood. Marcus sighed heavily and gave Cloven a heavy look as the man reloaded his rifle and leaned back, finishing his meal.  
‘Why?” The leader questioned.

  
“No one is allowed to say my rifle’s name without my permission. It is a divine weapon now, and it dislikes to be mocked.” Cloven replied calmly as if what he had done was nothing to him. Marcus smirked as he watched other man who he now declared as his best friend.  
“Don’t worry, that man was an idiot anyway.” He added and then the two continued their meal in silence, watching the fire dance in the darkness around them.

☢ ☢ ☢

_“You remember your precious Lianna? That pretty little thing that loved you?”_  
_“Stop it. She betrayed me.”_  
_“She was ready to kill anyone for you, to give her life away just so you would smile.”_  
_“Marcus, you’re asking for me to kill you.”_  
_“Why did you kill her? You know how hard it is to find such a pretty face nowadays?”_  
_“Do you ever shut up?”_  
_“I am your best friend, so take my advice.”_  
_“You’re not my friend. I have no friends.”_  
_“Yeah, ‘cause ya killed them all. So why did you kill Lianna, hmm?”_  
_“Private reason.”_  
_“Not good enough in bed, huh? Ha-ha.”_  
_“No, Marcus, all you're doing is adding to the number of bullets I'm going to put in your skull.”_  
_“Then tell me, Cloven!”_  
_“I took interest in someone else. And no, you are not allowed to ask anything else.”_  
_“Can I at least know the poor girl’s name, God preserve her soul.”_  
_“...Cyra.”_

☢ ☢ ☢

  
“Cyra...Cyra wake up!” Nate squeezed the woman’s shoulders, trying to bring her back  
into the real world. Unfortunately, she had suffered too much of a blood loss and there was no way she was going to wake up any time soon. “Dammit. This is not good at all. We need to get her out of here before it's too late.”

  
“Isn’t the stimpak supposed to heal her fast?” Hancock questioned as he loaded his combat shotgun, it was better than his original one, all thanks to Sole’s little gift. He pushed his tricorn firmly against his head and turned to meet Valentine's gaze. The detective was silent, his eyes shouting in worry as his thoughts were filled with Cyra. Their duo has formed only a few months ago; during this whole time he could not let himself get closer to her, and now here she was, standing on the edge of life and death.

  
“Nick.” John cocked his head back and watched the synth blink and refocus his stare. The man reached over and pulled out his gun, checking if he had enough ammunition to bust the culprit's head if they dared to shoot the woman he swore to take care of on their journey. “Promise to tell me your story with this one after we’re done.”

  
“If you promise to get her out of here to safety.” Valentine nodded and looked back at Cyra’s motionless body that Sole carefully tended to. Her leather outfit was cut apart here and there, disfiguring the unique patterns the woman had so carefully sewed onto the fabric. She would be enraged when she found out upon her her awakening. If she woke up at all. The clock was ticking and time was slipping away like sand through their fingers. The trio had to do something about the killer outside and a bunch of screaming freaked out settlers of the Glowing Sea.

  
“Hancock, you take care of the man head on.” Sole began to spill out orders as he gently lifted Cyra in his arms and pressed her against his chest. “Valentine, stay behind and make sure that the bastard has no freedom to relax. I'll try to sneak Cyra out of the back door and find a fast way around.”

  
“Done.” The ghoul nodded and gestured for Nick to follow him outside of the house, immediately finding cover behind one of the tall bins. They waited patiently for a shot from the attacker, scanning the surrounding hills in order to spot him. Meanwhile, Sole crept out of the door from the other side of the house, making his way over a hill that was fortunately small enough to hide behind the structure. He kept his head low, trying not to worsen Cyra’s wounds. Occasionally, he stung her body with a stimpak, hoping that it would speed up the process of healing, but there was something wrong. The blood refused to cease as if there was an object inside of the woman that repelled the healing.

  
“Dammit, this is going to be a bitch to the end.” Nate whispered under his breath and suddenly heard a distance shot, a bullet wheezing in the distance and hitting one of the Children of Atom in the shoulder. A scream came from the wounded man and soon it was silenced by another similar shot, most likely fatal one in his head. The attack from the sniper was followed by a rain of offence from Nick and John; both of them barely having any break in their reply. Sole could only hope that that was enough to keep the sniper busy while he traveled out of the Glowing Sea and to Sanctuary.

  
“C’mon bastard, show your mug!” Hancock shouted as he reloaded his shotgun, cursing as he noticed his ammo draining away. He knew he had to restock in Diamond City back when Sole was visiting, but for some dumb reason he decided against it. He shot a glance toward Valentine who was hiding behind a neighboring bin; it seemed like the synth was in a better shape than the other, and it gave John hope that they will get away easier.  
The shots from the sniper’s nest suddenly stopped forcing the two men slow their attack as well. Everything suddenly drowned in a dead silence, even the panicking Children of Atom hid in their shelters and stayed quiet like mice. The distant thunder of the radioactive storm was the only terrifying music to the ears, reassurance in the dire situation. Hancock and Valentine exchanged a concerned look before carefully looking out of their hideouts.

  
“What the hell?” John whispered as he noticed a man standing in the middle of the settlement. The stranger was wearing a black leather outfit with a similar trench coat - the hood of which was placed over his head. The infamous rifle was draped across his back, still warm from the shooting.

  
“Guns down.” The stranger suddenly spoke, his hand lifting up to point at Nick, who continued to point his gun at the man. Hancock blinked and quickly gestured to Valentine to lower his weapon. The synth grumbled and complied to the order, slowly letting his pistol draw back.

  
“Who the hell are you to give us orders?” John replied and elevated his body, standing tall and proud like a war general. He could feel the stranger’s eyes piercing him from head to toe, scanning every inch of his scarred face.

  
“Your outfit screams more about you than rumors, Hancock.” The stranger smirked, his voice carrying out the sarcasm into the thickening air. “Valentine, are you going to stay crouched like a naïve harlot or stand up?”

  
“I’m just making sure you don’t pull that gun of yours.” Nick spat and left his comfortable safe spot. “Do I know you?”

  
“I sure hope so.” The man replied and shook his head. “I hope Cyra told you a lot about me.”

  
“No...It can’t be.” Valentine’s eyes widened as he felt his whole being sink to the ground in disbelief.

  
“Nick?” John turned his head between the two men in confusion. “You know this asshole?”

“Yes. His name is Cloven, the guy that Cyra wants dead.” Valentine replied with a short nod as he watched the stranger reach over and pull the hood of his coat down. The white lock sprung down from the cover like a waterfall down the dry rocks. A pair of hazy blue eyes met with the glowing gold in a split second.  
“Pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Cloven replied with a playing smile on his lips. He ran his hand over his hair to fix the naughty parts of it that refused to lay with the rest. “I assume the third one took your precious Cyra to safety huh? Well I hope a Deathclaw snatches them both soon.” The man chuckled and ran his tongue across his pale lips.

  
“How about you fuck off.” Hancock snarled and aimed his shotgun at Cloven, ready to pull the trigger any second. The white-haired man did not flinch, he wasn’t even looking at the ghoul.

 

“You and Cyra were looking for me, so here I am. Alas, she cannot joins us, oops.” The sniper burst into a loud laughter, his widened smile scarring the other two men.

  
“You sick bastard, you will pay the price for what you’ve done.” Valentine pushed his hand up and pointed his pistol at Cloven’s head, but stopped himself, remembering Cyra’s words about her being the one to end the man’s life. He sighed heavily and looked toward Hancock. “Lower your gun, John.”

  
“What?” The mayor of Goodneighbor sent a puzzled glance toward the detective. “Did you lose a screw from your brain or something Nick? We have a perfect chance to kill this asshole right here and now. We have to make sure he does not come after your girlfriend again.”

  
“She’s not my- John just please put the gun down.” Valentine repeated, trying to sound as calm as he could even though his thoughts raced from one plan to another, trying to figure what to do next. He was making decisions faster than he could analyze them. “Please.”

  
“You better have a good reason for this.” Hancock growled and glared at smirking Cloven before letting his shotgun rest at his side.

  
“Why spare me, Valentine?” The White Raven purred curiously; this was taking an interesting turn. He had no business here anymore, not that Cyra was dead, but something forced him to stay a little longer.

  
“Cloven, you’re under arrest.” Nick took a step forward, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “I suggest you comply without a fight.”

 

“What?” The man chuckled. “What is this Valentine? Going to throw me into the Diamond City’s prison and let me rot there?”

  
“No. I am bringing you to Sanctuary Hills so Cyra can finally finish you off.” Valentine snapped, his eyes filling with pure hatred toward this freak. He was tempted to kill this bastard all by himself, but Cyra’s wish was stronger than his gun’s will. Cloven took a sharp step back, his brow meeting in a deep frown.

  
“Cyra? Cyra is dead, you rusty idiot!” The Raven screamed, his hands trembling with a need to pull out his dagger and slash the synth’s wires. Hancock noticed the gesture and immediately aimed his gun at Cloven making a clear message that he would shoot with no second thoughts.

  
“It's synth detective, jackass.” Nick replied sharply, suddenly pulling out his gun and slamming the butt of it across Cloven’s face. It did not knock the man out but knocked him out of balance, giving Valentine the momentum to grab the man’s hands and twist them behind his back, locking them tightly in the cuffs.

  
“Bloody hell, you bit-” The Raven raged, earning another painful slam across his face; this time it was from Hancock.

  
“Shut up and start walking.” The ghoul snarled and threatened the other with his fist. “Or I won’t miss your teeth next time.”

☢ ☢ ☢

“Curie! I need your help!” A distant scream that belonged to a familiar voice rang like a thousand church bells.  
“Yes, monsieur.” A woman with a funny, soft accent. “Right away.”  
“Woah, that is one bloody mess. What happened, boss?” Another man, seeming to be younger than the first one.  
“Not now, MacCready.”  
“General, what do you need me to bring?” A soldier.  
“Take a thousand caps from my pocket, go buy all the stimpaks you can find and fast. Don’t spare time.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Monsieur, please put her here, I will begin an immediate examination.” Her voice was so soothing…  
“Thank you Curie, thank you so much.” The man sounded so sincere...  
  
The whole Sanctuary seemed to gather up near Nate’s house that now served the purpose of infirmary. People wondered what was going on since Sole showed up running through the front entrance, calling for help as he held a woman covered in blood in his arms. Cait pushed her way through the crowd, cursing them as she finally made it inside.

  
“What’s goin’ on?”

  
“I have an emergency.” Sole replied as he sat near the bed, his foot nervously tapping on the floor as he watched Cyra.

  
“Who’s that feek?” The red-haired woman questioned as she looked over the wounded woman.

  
“Long story.” Nate sighed. “She was travelling with Valentine, looking for her lost father. We all met at the Glowing Sea and just before getting to know each other better, she got shot by someone. We were ambushed by a well-trained sniper. I left John with Nick to take care of him while bringing her out the back. My stimpaks didn't help her for some reason. I am afraid that the bullet that went through her might’ve damaged important organs.” The man chewed on his lips and sighed deeply. “Besides, the wound refused to heal, I don’t know why.” He explained as Curie turned her attention to him.

  
“I will have to perform a surgery to find out what’s happened.” Curie began as she assembled her surgical devices on the tray. “I promise that everything will be fine. I just need alcohol to clean out the wound properly, monsieur.”

  
“Of course, we have a big stock of vodka in the storage house.” Nate smiled and quickly left the building, forcing the growing crowd to scatter away and resume their business. After a moment, him and MacCready returned with their arms full of bottles. They placed them on the table near Curie who thanked them for the help.

  
“Now I can perform the operation more safely.” The woman smiled and watched Sole come closer and take her hand.

  
“I barely know her, but I am not allowing her to die. She has a purpose in this world, so please, save her. She is very important to Valentine.”

  
“Of course, monsieur.” Curie blinked, touched by the sudden deep care that Nate was showing toward the stranger. “I will do everything I can and beyond.”

  
“Thank you.”

☢ ☢ ☢

_The sky was clear at night, exposing a thousand of glowing dots on the black blanket that seemed to stretch over the whole world. The ground was still warm from the day’s heavy heat even though the sun was hidden under the horizon._  
_A tall man sat near the end of the clear water, poking a long stick along the tiny running waves of the spring. Near him, rested a young girl who threw small rocks into the water, giggling at the quiet splashes they made._

  
_“Dad, what if one day, the sky falls down?” She asked, lifting her head up curiously._  
_“We fight.” The man replied without any hesitation._  
_“But why?”_  
_“This world has seen its worst already, Cyra. A falling sky won’t be a surprising occurrence. People will just look at it and grumble about wasting their bullets.” The man explained with a half smile playing on his lips. “We always fight to claim what is ours and protect what we have made of this damned nation.”_  
_“But what if you die?” The young one continued to question, her hazel eyes wide as she discovered a new point of view from her father._  
_“There is no such thing as death anymore, Cyra. You fight whether you’re barely wounded or crawling in your own blood. You fight because you have a reason to exist.” The man responded and stroked his daughter’s soft hair. “No matter how bad things will get, you will always fight back, dear.”_  
_“James,” a sudden female voice interrupted the conversation. “Are you talking nonsense into our daughter again?”_

_“I am teaching Cyra how to be a fearless warrior.” The father said over his shoulder proudly._  
_“James, she is only six.” The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head._

_“It is never too early. Everyone should know that giving up in this world is the last thing that should come across one’s mind.”_

_“Have it your way, warrior. Come, I made us supper.”_  
_The man smiled wide and turned to look at Cyra as both of them elevated from the ground and brushed the dust off themselves. He then reached out and gestured for the girl to look up at the sky._  
_“You see the stars, dear? They shine upon us every night, guiding us toward something great. One of those stars belongs to you, it is you in some sense.” James whispered. “And while it continues to shine, you will live and fight no matter the cost. Got it?”_  
_“Yes, father.” The young girl smiled wide and then followed the man inside to join the family at the table. While they celebrated another lucky day of hunting, the stars above their roof dances in their light; yet one of them that was separated from the crowd began to slowly blur before vanishing in the darkness, never then appearing back. The following night, no one noticed that one of the brightest shining stars had died._


	5. From Darkness to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloven finally meets with the one he thought he sent to the other side.

 

The Commonwealth had never been such a prison for Cloven. The Raven always roamed free whenever he pleased, not caring about the consequences of his actions. But now, since his hands were tightly locked behind him, the world seemed to grow colder and smaller, pushing on him as if he were in a tight box.

  
“Let me go.” He snarled over his shoulder though knowing that Valentine was not letting him go anytime soon.  
  
“Keep dreaming.” As expected, Nick was not negotiating with the criminal. The synth was still concerned about catching this bastard. From Cyra’s words, Cloven sounded like a very dangerous individual that always could slither out of any situation; now he looked like any other culprit Valentine caught before. Either this white-haired curse was not as tough as the rumors were, or he was planning something.  The latter sounded more like it to Nick and that it what kept him alert throughout the trip back to Sanctuary.  
  
“Valentine,” Hancock called for the man’s attention as he held Cloven’s rifle in his hands, scanning the fine work of the adornments. He was fascinated just how well this gun was preserved and cared for: the black paint shined in the light of day, the white wings of a raven seemed to be 3 dimensional, and the sinister skull over the scope only added more to the weapon’s eerie beauty. “I suggest we stop at Red Rocket and search this guy for any other weapons, you know? It'll be dangerous to bring him into Sanctuary without knowing the aces up his sleeves.”  
  
“Good thinking. I like that idea.” A shadow of a smile danced on Nick’s lips; John was right, this man was indeed dangerous.  
  
“Careful with Osiris, you rotten freak.” Cloven spat over his shoulder, his pale eyes darkening as he watched his beloved gun being handled by a ghoul. God, he despised those creatures from the very beginning.  
  
“I’d watch your mouth, smooth skin. You're the one with your hands cuffed and I'm the one with the gun.” Hancock’s black eyes sparked with mischief as he smirked.  “As long as I don't kill you, I can paint your pretty face with bruises.”  
  
“Fuck off.” Cloven snarled and nodded toward his gun. “Just be careful with Osiris, alright? That's all I ask.”  
  
“Osiris? You named your gun after an Egyptian God?” Nick’s thin brows crawled up in wonder as he looked over Cloven.  
  
“I'm surprised you even know about it.” The white-haired man replied, sounding calmer than before.  
  
“Egypt- what?” John questioned, not sure what they were talking about.  
  
“There was an ancient civilization of some kind before the war and shit like that.” Cloven explained. “When I was with the Gunners, their leader named it for me saying that this gun served a divine purpose.”  
  
“Divine purpose?” Nick asked, sounding interested in finding out more about the man in his custody.  
  
“I let people have a second chance after their death. Reborn someone better.” Cloven began as he slowed down his step to level up with the other men. “I don't kill because I'm bored. I make people vanish because they didn't deserve their lives as they are, so that in their next life they learn a lesson.”  
  
“Well, at least you're not praying to Atom.” Hancock chuckled. “Look, there's no second chance bullshit. You live your life like you want to, whether you help people or just feel sorry for yourself from one day to another. When you die, you die. Done and done.”  
  
“You don't know anything.” Cloven sighed and shook his head.  
  
“You said you were involved with the Gunners? Care to share?” Nick decided to change the subject before the two men were to engage in a verbal war.  
  
“Yes,” Cloven turned his head and nodded. “I joined the Gunners after leaving a settlement I used to live in. The assholes feared me because I could easily put a bullet into anyone’s head. Their leader though, Marcus Schnatz, he did not fear me.” The white-haired man smirked as he recalled the echoing memories of his younger past.  
  
“He thought he was my pal and forced himself into my private circle every time he breathed the same air as I.” Cloven continued, his fingers moving to pop since his wrists began to feel numb. “He asked me to hunt for them, bring them the “good stuff”, and kill any idiot that decided to mess with us. Since I'm a sharpshooter, as you hopefully realized, I always stayed behind and made sure everyone was alive.”  
  
“Aren't you a loyal dog.” Hancock smirked.  
  
“Shut up.” Cloven replied with a snarly snap; he was already fed up with this ghoul.  
  
“So why did you leave?” Nick continued his interrogation.  
  
“Personal reasons. I didn't like the boring routines they had every day.” Cloven shrugged his shoulders. “Just hours ago I met Marcus on a crossing. It looked like he missed me.” Cloven smiled. “I killed him.”  
  
“What a great way to treat your friends.” John shook his head and looked into the distance.  
  
“He wasn't my friend to begin with.” Cloven explained. “He dared to say my gun’s name while everyone knew that it was forbidden.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because Osiris is a divine weapon. Its name is unique and only called by its master, not like some whore’s calling that everyone uses.” Cloven was beginning to get a headache from all these questions, but if it meant avoiding another hit across his face, then so be it.  
  
“What are you, a God?” Hancock arched his nonexistent brow, ready to burst out laughing.  
  
“I already explained the purpose of my gun.” Cloven snarled, jerking his head to look at the ghoul. “Don't make me kill you first.”  
  
“Oh! I'm so afraid!” John smirked and showed the man his fist. “Want another one? No? Then stop being such a moody jackass.”  
  
“Cloven, do you have any family?” Nick turned the attention to himself again just before Cloven was ready to deliver another insulting comeback.  
  
“No. They’re dead.” Cloven felt a cringe in his body as memories of Evangeline’s motionless body in the casket touched his mind. He shook his head violently and stared down at the ground, watching his feet move on autopilot.  
  
“Is that why you left your home?”  
  
“The people there hated me because they thought I was the cause of their problems. The idiots thought that I dropped the atomic bombs on the fucking world.” Cloven shook his head and spat. “Fools didn't like my hair color since it was so unusually white. I didn't look like any member of my family, even though my father and I shared the same eyes.”  
  
“I feel ya there.” Hancock nodded his head approvingly, suddenly relating to Cloven concerning the hardships of fitting in because of one’s different appearance.  
  
“Well you are a ghoul. I can hide my hair, you can't hide that hideous mug.”  
  
“At least I live proudly with it, being a mayor of people who trust me with their lives.” Hancock parried with a smile. “And also, all of my friends are alive.”  
  
“I don't need friends.” Cloven barked, a sudden thunder of Marcus’s bullying words waking up in his head, sending a shiver down his spine.  
  
I’m the only one that gives a shit about you, Cloven.  
  
“I don't need anyone.” The man continued, feeling his heart turn into a colder stone than before.  
  
They’re all dead.  
  
“You alright there, kid?” Valentine poked in as he noticed Cloven's odd behaviour.  
  
“I'm fine. Just kinda numb in the wrists you know.” The Raven growled, moving his arms to make it obvious.  
  
“Can't do anything about that, sorry.” The synth smirked and shook his head. He looked forward and saw the top of the Red Rocket building shining in the distance.  “We’re almost there.”  
  
“Get ready to spill all your tricks out of your pockets, joker.” Hancock hissed and pushed Cloven on the shoulder to force him to quicken his pace.  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
Sole stood near the workshop checking all the supplies they owned over and over again. Time seemed to slow down as if he consumed several jets at once. It was a dreadful feeling of unknown as his eyes darted toward his house where Curie was hovering over Cyra and trying to clean her wound. He already could count four empty bottles of vodka standing on the windowsill and it did not give him any feeling of ease. The man wondered if the woman could find out what was the deal with the stimpaks not working on the wounds dealt by a simple bullet.  
  
“General,” Preston’s voice tore Nate away from his deep thoughts. The man looked up meeting a dark, worried gaze. “I know this is not the time to ask, but did you find out anything about the lost Minutemen?”  
  
“I'm afraid not. There was no one in the settlement that was related to the Minutemen. Either they were never there, or managed to escape somehow. I'm sorry, Preston.”  
  
“That's alright, I'm grateful for your effort. How's the girl?” Garvey asked as he sat down on the ground, watching Sole lean his hands on the workshop and take a deep breath.  
  
“She is still unconscious. Curie is doing everything possible to keep her alive.” The man replied as he pulled off his hat and placed it on the top of the workshop’s surface.  
  
“Do you know her?”  
  
“Barely. We met at the Glowing Sea. She was traveling with Valentine in search of her father. Before we knew it, we were ambushed by a sniper and she was shot.” Sole replied and scratched the back of his head, still confused about the whole situation.  
  
“Did you see him?” Preston asked, cocking his head to the side.  
  
“No. Nick and John stayed behind to keep him occupied while I brought the girl here. I am sure they are done with him by now. Whoever he is, he certainly knows who she is since he targeted her precisely.”  
  
“What's her name?”  
  
“Cyra. That's all I know of her.”  
  
“Don't worry, we’ll soon find out more.” Garvey smiled heartily and stood up. He placed a hand on Sole’s shoulder and have it a tight squeeze. “Everything will be alright, General.”  
  
“Thank you, Preston.” Nate returned the smile and then snapped his head to the side as he heard MacCready’s voice.  
  
“Hey boss, the dangerous duo is back!” The mercenary announced as he pointed toward the entrance into the Sanctuary. “They have someone with them.”  
  
Sole’s eyes brightened as he realized that Nick perhaps took the sniper hostage, though he was puzzled about the synth’s reasoning for such action. The man grabbed his hat and hurried to meet the trio followed by the rest of the curious settlers.  
  
“Valentine, what's happening?” Nate questioned right away as he approached them. Hancock smiled pointing at their hostage that head a hood over his head.  
  
“That's the bastard that shot Cyra.” Nick replied calmly and pulled the hood off. Sole’s eyes widened as he met a pair of hateful pale eyes of a younger-looking man. He had a cut on his cheek that seemed to glow on his pale skin stained in crimson blood. His white hair was dirty from the same red substance but remained another surprising trait about his whole appearance.  
  
“You kidding me?” Nate arched his brow as he studied the other man.  
  
“This is the infamous killer.” Hancock shrugged his shoulders as if he did not believe the sensation himself.  
  
“What's your name?” Sole turned his attention to the white-haired man who was looking away into the crowd of people that gathered behind the other.  
  
“Cloven.” The man answered and looked toward Nate. “I see you got away with Cyra, how unfortunate.” He smirked and nodded toward Valentine.  “Nice gang you have, I wish my boys were as smart as a synth and a ghoul”  
  
“Your boys?”  
  
“I am the head of Raiders in the Combat Zone.” Cloven continued as he suddenly spotted Cait in the crowd and widened his sinister grin. “Oh hey sweetie, I see you're I a safe place now.” He chuckled.  
  
“C-Cloven? You prick!” Cait snarled, pushing out of the crowd and darting toward the man with her fist ready. Hancock reacted first and shifted forward to stop the enraged woman.  
  
“Hey doll, calm down now.” The man whispered to her before she pushed him away.  
  
“This bastard deserves to be cut into shreds!” The woman shouted, spitting curses over and over again, yet backing away since she knew that she wouldn't get a chance to plant her fist onto Cloven's mug.  
  
“Women.” Cloven rolled his eyes and laughed.  
  
“I see you've got some friends.” Sole watched Cait before turning to the sniper.  
  
“Friends? More like pawns for entertainment.” Cloven shrugged. “You won't understand.”  
  
“Sure I won't.” Nate crossed his arms over his chest and looked around to find a single-room shack to place Cloven in.  
“MacCready, take our guest to the small shack near Kent’s home.” He said with a smile. “Guard it well.”  
  
“Sure.” RJ replied slowly, eyes never leaving Cloven as he escorted him as instructed.  
  
“He had only two weapons on him.” Hancock stepped forward and showed a dagger with a unique cut on the handle as well as the large rifle. Sole took both of the deadly object, scanning them with curiosity.  
  
“Wow, he sure did take care of his style…”  
  
“The Commonwealth knows him under a nickname of White Raven, I guess he adapted that through his armory.” Valentine shrugged and then scanned the surroundings.  Sole caught his eyes and nodded toward his home.  
  
“She's there.”  
  
“Thank you.” Valentine nodded and hurried toward the house nearly losing his hat. Nate exchanged a glance with Hancock, both men smiling before making their way into the home.  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
“What the heck are you doing here.” MacCready demanded right as he pushed Cloven inside the shack. The white-haired man growled as he hit the hard mattress.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Cready.” He grumbled and sat up as best as he could, his arms aching from the cuffs. “I am being held hostage, if you didn't notice already.”  
  
“I thought I'd be rid of you forever.” RJ snarled and kicked the bed hard.  
  
“Easy there, I was hoping for he same luck as well, but unfortunately here we are.” Cloven smirked and cocked his head to the side. “Look at you, finally finding a home.”  
  
“Shut up, no one asked for your opinion.”  
  
“That's why I gave it.”  
  
“What happened after I left? I thought you stayed with the Gunners.” MacCready asked, his eyes studying Cloven’s appearance, noting that nothing had really changed.  
  
“I left for my personal reasons, besides, Marcus was getting on my nerves.” Cloven shrugged and pressed his back against the wall. “I came a peasant, I left a king.”  
  
“A king? You still flatter yourself, Cloven.” MacCready shook his head and looked to the side where the door was. He still recalled all those times he and Cloven used to spend with the Gunners. They competed a lot in their sniper mastery, trying to figure out who was better. Cloven seemed to always take the lead, growing tired of scoring best over and over again, yet RJ never failed to come deadly close.  
  
“Unlike you, Cready, I never left any burdening trails behind me.” Cloven grinned with his signature evil poking out through the holes of his indifference.  
  
“It's all resolved now.” The mercenary answered without hesitation. “All thanks to Sole.”  
  
“The guy that ran away with my kill?”  
  
“The guy that saved your unfortunate victim, Cloven.”  
  
“Even your son’s ridiculous situation was fixed?” The White Raven continued, trying to find a good old scar to open in MacCready, but the other stayed unmoving.  
  
“Yes. Duncan is going to be fine.” RJ said plainly and shook his head, drowning the room in a heavy pause of silence.  Cloven sighed heavily acknowledging his current situation and how vulnerable he was without his precious weapons.  
  
“How is she?” He nodded toward MacCready’s rifle that was proudly fixed on the man’s back. “Still serving her duties?”  
  
“My rifle? Well it's a new one.” RJ reached back to pull the sniper off and show it to Cloven. “Sole decided to give me a little gift. He calls it Klein for some reason, but I don't care as long as I can get a good shot.”  
  
“I see.” Cloven hummed and shook his head.  
  
“What about you? Still bonded with Osi- you know.” RJ bit his tongue as he was about to call the gun by its name. He still remembered a harsh fight he got into with the White Raven after he carelessly mentioned the rifle in a conversation.  
  
“Osiris is fine.” Cloven’s lips widened in a smile as he noticed that his influence indeed gave the other man a lasting scar. “Even though she is mad about not being with her owner at the moment.”  
  
“Sole has a sniper of his own. He calls it Governor, don't ask me why. He has a weird habit of naming his favourite weapons.” RJ added as he placed his rifle back where it belonged.  
  
“He has a nice gang, I must admit. That piece of junk and the zombie made a good opposition back at the Glowing Sea. Made me sweat a little.” Cloven smirked and licked his dry lips. “I'm surprised he even recruited Cait. Last time I saw her, she was tripping on psycho.”  
  
“Cait’s addiction was cured. Sole helped her through it.” MacCready darted his gaze forward, noticing a shadow of disappointment dim on Cloven’s face. “He helped a lot of us, no matter how bad or impossible our situation seemed.”  
  
“He was there, what a hero.  I don’t care MacCready.” Cloven took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.  His thoughts trailed away in wonder if this heroic man was some miracle of Commonwealth that dwelled in the vault for the last 200 years.  “Look, I just want you to do something for me.”  
  
“What the hell can you possibly want me to do, Cloven? You ain’t my boss.” The light-haired man barked in response and pushed away from the well.  
  
“Look, I just want to rest, okay? These cuffs are preventing me from relaxing on the bed.  If I’m going to be stuck here for a while, at least have the courtesy to get the key from Valentine and fix my wrist to the bed’s overhead.” Cloven reasoned and glared at RJ while the sniper narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  
  
“How do I know if you’re going to stay here while I get the key?”  
  
“MacCready, you always were exceptional with your lack of brain.” Cloven shook his head. “Look, my hands are locked, my weapons are with your boss, and you have armed freaks roaming Sanctuary.  You think I would be able to escape even if I really wanted to?”  
  
“Knowing you, Raven, anything can happen.” MacCready shrugged his shoulders with a growing smile of ease on his face. “But fine, I'll the key and make sure that the only way you’re getting out of here is a hand lighter.”  
  
“Yes, yes, now go.” Cloven rolled his eyes and pressed his forehead to the cold wooden wall. His arms were hurting to the point where he began to feel it expand into a migraine. Now he knew what it felt like to be a prisoner, held hostage for a simple dealing of justice.  Once MacCready left, the white-haired man released a long sigh. It just began to occur to him of what was really happening; all this madness finally sobered him up.  
  
Cyra was dead, he saw the bullet pierce her flesh and send her into darkness. However, there was something deep inside of him that told him that the woman was still grasping onto her worthless life. The man paced from one corner of the room to another after he found the strength to elevate his body from the bed. There was no window in the shack, he couldn't see his surroundings or the scenery, especially not the house where Cyra was.  
  
“Well, now I have to wait for a perfect moment.” The man whispered to himself as his mind began to produce a plan after plan for a fast and quiet escape.  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
Valentine sat in the corner of the house, his eyes unmoving as he watched Curie perform her healing magic over Cyra.  The synth had to admit to himself that he was worried; he hated the idea of finding himself completely useless in this situation.  Since the very beginning he enjoyed Cyra’s company; she was a unique appearance in his life that tore him from sitting in the office and reading the documents on the Mysterious Stranger repeatedly.  
  
He recalled the first days of studying the woman from the side.  She was an odd individual that tended to be obsessed with picking locks and hacking terminals to find something exciting within.  Every success was a little victory celebration, and every failure resulted in a broken lockpick or a locked terminal was followed by a string of fresh curses. Nick knew she had her way with computers and locked doors, and it was entertaining to see her reject his help with confidence that she would be the one opening the path with her skill.  Sometimes, it took her one try, however usually she was complaining more than concentrating, which resulted in her making an innocent face and asking Valentine to hack the terminal for her.  
  
When she told him about her family, Nick realized just how miserable the woman was.  He never noticed the sadness in her eyes and then pain in her chest until he caught her sobbing into her coat the night they took a stop near a running stream. Cyra had two objectives: finding her father and destroying Cloven’s life, revenge for crushing hers. He did not mind, the bastard deserved several bullets to the head if not more.  
  
“How is she?” Sole’s voice, coming from nowhere, pulled Nick away from his deep memory rewinding.  
  
“I have managed to clean the wound, monsieur.” Curie stated with a smile on her lips as she wiped her hands. “Although I could not find out what was the object that repelled the stimpak’s healing effect, I did the best job of getting rid of it.”  
  
“Thank you Curie, you deserve a break.” Nate smiled and approached the bed, looking down at Cyra’s pale face whose brown locks seemed to glow against her skin.  
  
“She will have to stay away from hitting the road for a while, let the wound heal.” The medic continued as she gathered up her tools. “And make sure she doesn’t rush for revenge either, her condition is going to be unstable for a week or so.”  
  
“Of course. She will be under my protection personally, thank you again.” Nate nodded and waited for Curie to leave the house before turning to Nick. “It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“I know, kid.” Valentine sighed. “I only wish I was the one to take the bullet, then we wouldn’t be sitting here, breaking our hearts in worry.” The detective stood up and brushed his arms before walking over to the bed and looking over the slumbering woman.  She looked peaceful and he hoped that this knockout was good for her rest.  
  
“She will be alright. Curie did the best she could do and it was enough to keep your girl alive.” Sole winked as Valentine gave him a confused stare.  
  
“She’s not my-”  
  
“Valentine!” MacCready entered the building, briefly resting his gaze on Cyra before turning to the synth. “I need the key for Cloven’s handcuffs.”  
  
“Oh?” The synth’s thin brow crawled up in confusion. “And the reason is?”  
  
“He asked me if he could have a better resting position on the bed, his arms are hurting pretty badly.” The sniper shrugged and leaned on the side of the door frame.  
  
“And you left him all alone in the shack without a lock?”  
  
“C’mon Nick, do you really think he would go anywhere? Knowing him, he never goes anywhere without his precious weapons.” RJ sighed and shook his head; all he wanted is an easy way to get his task over with.  
  
“Wait, you know him?” Sole arched his brow and left the bedside to approach the man. “How?”  
  
“The Gunners. Cloven and I were a part of them together, even though I joined later than him.  He and I used to compete in our sniping skills, as well as go out on scouting missions.  I left before him, then, Cloven just became a distant memory that I erased from my head until now.” MacCready shifted uncomfortably, the flashbacks of Cloven leaving a bitter aftertaste.  
  
“Well, well. Seems like Cloven is famous around the Commonwealth after all.” Sole smirked and gestured for both men to follow him. “No need for a key, we are going to pay a quick visit to our guest.”  
  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
“Looks like she’s pretty beat up.” A voice came from somewhere to the right.  It was odd to hear it, echoing through the darkness that surrounded Cyra. Nonetheless, she let it convince her to stay.  
  
“Watch out for all those scars, whatever she’s been through, she got stories to tell.” Another voice much clearer than the first one, perhaps its source was standing closer to the slumbering body on the bed.  
  
“Did Sole say anything about her?”  
  
“Only that her name’s Cyra and she is searching for her father with Valentine.” A familiar voice enveloped the woman’s ears, waking her up little by little. “Turns out, the man that Hancock and Valentine brought to Sanctuary is somehow related to her situation.”  
  
“Really? And who’s that son o’ a bitch?”  
  
“White Raven.” New voices kept appearing as if there was a crowd in the isolated room where Cyra was. Upon hearing the echoing infamous nickname her whole body became cold.  
  
It’s him  
“Hngh…” Cyra could only produce a soft groan; a sudden piercing pain in her lower body shot her into reality. Her hazy eyes slowly opened and took a moment to focus in the sudden beaming light.  Once the image of her surroundings was clear, the woman noticed that she was in a half-ruined house, people standing around her.  It was as if she was some queen whose awakening was a nationwide celebration. She saw several ghouls standing back, the lower half of their faces covered with vivid bandanas, in front of them stood two women: one in a labcoat and the other in a light-brown corset and matching leather pants with fiery hair. Both of them exchanged a glance, their lips spreading into a beaming smile.  
  
“She is finally awake!” A robot-like voice came from in front of the bed.  Cyra was too weak to turn her head and admire its owner, but she could already tell that it was a robot of a Mister Handy model. “Curie, you are a true genius.”  
  
“Merçi.” A woman named Curie that caught Cyra’s attention with her attire of a doctor smiled and looked down at her feet shyly.  
  
“General is going to be satisfied that you saved her life.” Preston nodded his head and turned his attention to Cyra. “You are in Sanctuary, a fine settlement that Nate built. He brought you here in a critical condition, but thanks to our best medic, you’re alive.”  
  
“Th-Thanks.” Cyra was puzzled by all the people that were gathered near her bed.  She never had such audience in her life before. Besides, she barely recognized anyone except for the mention of Sole. “I...I am forever in your debt.” She nodded toward Curie who only shook her head in reply.  
  
“No need mademoiselle, you being alive is the greatest payback I can ever have.” The woman smiled and approached the bed. “You mustn’t make any sharp moves.  The bullet that pierced you had mercy on your organs, but not on the muscle. It will be a while before you can perform any action other than running. Est-ce que tu comprends?”  
  
“S-sure,” Cyra whispered, not sure what language the woman spoke in the end, yet it sounded like a question demanding a positive answer. “Does that mean I will have to stay here for a while?” The woman inquired, even though she already knew the answer.  
  
“Oui.” Curie nodded, fixing the covers on the side of the bed. “We will all protect you.” She sounded very reassuring, planting a spark of hope in Cyra’s chest.  The medic then took a minute to check if everything was alright with the patches on the wound and left the house. The ghouls that stood at the back of the room exchanged a hushed word between one another before following Curie’s example. Cyra arched her brow, looking back to Preston questionably.  
  
“They’re our regular settlers that have been assigned to the guard posts.  They decided to form a gang to protect our home.  They are friendly if you speak to them when they are off duty.” Garvey smiled as he took the honor to clear the fog of wonder. “May I introduce you some of us that were waiting for you to awake?”  
  
“Of course.” Cyra nodded her head quickly and slowly sat up, groaning at the striking pain in her abdomen. The bullet must’ve been devastating based on the uncomfortable feeling of echoing agony the woman felt.  
  
“The robot is Codsworth, he is a nice fella that you’ll see most of the time since he’ll be taking care of you here.” Preston began, pointing at each person as he went along the standing line. “And this is Cait, Sturges, Lena, and Shaun, Sole’s son.” The man then finished by introducing himself and mentioning his Minuteman title. The little boy with black hair and eerily perfect pale skin smiled and waved his little hand at Cyra.  
  
“Pleasure.” Cyra nodded her head, cringing deep inside as she discovered that there was another Minuteman along with Sole.  She already disliked the idea being close to them, but she had to tame her old grudge that was passed on by her father and tolerate it as a thanks for saving her life. “I am once again thankful for your help.”  
  
“Of course.” Preston smiled as the rest of the people left after the introductions. Cait agreed to deliver the joyful news to Sole while Codsworth promised to bring the lady something to eat.  
  
“Preston,” Cyra called the Minuteman when he was the only company she had in the room. “When I was half awake, I heard someone say White Raven.”  The woman noticed the man freeze in place and give out a half nod. “Is he...is Cloven here in Sanctuary?”  
  
“Yes.” Garvey replied stiffly.  
  
“I need to see him.”  
  
“You’re in no state to-”  
  
“Preston, with all gratitude, I must see him!” Cyra suddenly snapped.  Just the thought of the monster that ruined her life being a few meters away from her sickened the woman. “Please.”  
  
“Alright, but let me help you walk. You won’t be able to do it yourself.” Preston extended his hands to slowly elevate Cyra from the bed and gently let her feet touch the floor.  He then let her find her balance before removing his coat and placing it over her shoulders. The woman shivered and thanked the Minuteman before making her way outside the house.  Every step was a challenge, like lightning the pain echoed throughout her body, and the only motivation that kept her from falling was finally seeing a face that haunted her nightmares for so long.  
  
“He's in the shack across the street.” Preston pointed, keeping up with the woman while holding her by the elbow. He knew that she was holding back tears of agony, feeling her body shaking from the heavy burden of the wound.  He reached into his pocket and retrieved a stimpak to ease Cyra’s suffering even though it was odd that he could not cure it completely.  
  
“Thanks.” The woman murmured over her shoulder, already feeling a sweet relief from the aid.  She did not use stimpaks that often, so the feeling of the needle always made her cringe a little.  As she reached the shack, she dismissed Preston by telling him that she had to do this alone despite the coming voices from the inside. Step by step, she approached the door and hesitated for several deep breaths before pushing it open.  
  
“...and how did you know that she would be there?” Sole’s voice was much clearer now.  He was standing next to the bed where Cloven sat with his left wrist chained to the bed’s overhead.  The remaining trio consisting of the ghoul, a synth, and a sniper stood aside next to a wall, watching the interrogation.  All heads turned sharply to face Cyra as the door was open, eyes becoming wide as they noticed that Death’s bride decided to pull away from the arrangement.  
  
“C-Cyra?” Valentine’s voice seemed to stumble for the first time of their journey.  The man was utterly shocked to see the woman alive and standing in the door frame.  
  
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Nate stepped in as he leaned back from the prisoner and turned to face her. Even though he was shocked by the woman founding strength in her movement, he still remained protective and cold. Hancock and MacCready remained silent,, hungrily watching the scenery they knew was about to expose and silently giving Nick a hint to seize his interrogation for the aftermath.  
  
“Listen, I don’t need you asking me questions because I’m here with my own.” Cyra snarled, startling Sole by her aggressiveness. The man sighed and complied by stepping aside and letting the attention turn to Cloven while the room fell silent. The woman pushed her brown locks back from her face as she proceeded further into her room, her eyes never leaving the pale gaze of the killer that seemed so vulnerable now. The man scanned her from head to toes, growing solemn in his expression as he pulled on a false smile.  
  
“I was hoping to see your corpse.” Cloven sighed and leaned back against the wall. Cyra froze as she heard a familiar voice crack through the shell of indifference.  It was really him, after all that time of endless searching in abandoned houses and radiated areas, he was right in front of her.  
  
“You.” She whispered, her hands shaking slightly as she was tempted to snatch a gun from Sole’s belt and put a bullet through Cloven head, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Why did you shoot me?”  
  
“Ah, here we go.” The Raven shook his head and closed his eyes. “Your life was useless, so I decided to end it.”  
  
“Why didn’t you kill me back at the Combat Zone?”  
  
“I considered you being worth something back then.  The fire of terror and anger that danced in your eyes inspired me to let you live a little longer. Even though you were still an immature lady who did not know what real danger hid in the Commonwealth.” Cloven widened in his smile, sending a shiver down the woman’s back.  
  
“You monster. You know you didn't have to kill Rhys.” She snapped, taking a step closer to the bed but still remaining far from the man’s reach. There was something that told her to stay away even though the shack was full of men that were ready to hold Cloven back in case he pulled something.  
  
“There is always a reason for everything.  Your brother was weak.” The man shook his head, his eyes studying Cyra with curiosity. “You’ve grown to become a beautiful one, I admit, yet it’s a shame that you didn’t join him in the afterlife.”  
  
“I swore to kill you, but I need more answers first.” Cyra growled through her teeth, her body beginning to feel the rising heat from internal anger.  
  
“Chill down, mad dove.” Cloven cooed, his lips spread into a dangerous leer.  This man already had something planned in his mind even though his chances of leaving the shack were nil at the moment. “Ask away, I believe we have time to spare.” The man looked toward Sole, his brows raising innocently as if to confirm his speculation. Nate took a deep breath and gestured for the remaining trio of men to leave.  
  
“Come gentleman, I think these two should be left alone.” He pulled a comfortable chair from the corner and let Cyra sit back against it, once again hearing a groan from her.  He slipped a stimpak into her hand, asking to use it if the pain becomes unbearable.  
  
“Hey Sole,” The woman called as the first two men left the shack.  She managed to grab onto Valentine’s sleeve, thus stopping the man in mid step and receiving a quizzical stare. “Let Nick stay, I need him.” She murmured, her shaking fingers squeezing the rough fabric of the trench coat.  
  
“Of course.” Sole smiled after exchanging a glance of approval with the synth. “Better safe than sorry.” He nodded and left the shack, softly closing the door behind him. Valentine looked down at Cyra, her eyes glued to the edge of the bed as she tried to keep her mask of indifference glued to her face.  He knew that she was about to face heavy answers from the leader of Raiders and that the cold ice wall would eventually crack.  The detective warmed up deep within his mechanical heart, grateful that Cyra put so much trust into him in a short period of time. The man gently squeezed the woman’s hand, showing his support for her, and took a seat in another chair in the opposite corner, staying in the shadow to give the two privacy.  
  
“What a touching moment.” Cloven smirked and took a more comfortable position on the bed, his ankles crossed and both of his arms spread on the overhead of the bed. “Begin your interrogation, m’lady.”  
  
“Quit your fucking around, asshole.” Cyra snapped back at him, dismissing any manners that this man dared to use.  His way of trying to pour honey into a pot of salt, and it failed miserably in an attempt to remedy the grudge this woman held against him.  It was a curse as she always called it; a black mark on her heart that was going to lift only after she personally cuts his throat.  
  
“You like it rough, I see.” Cloven continued, his lips never descending from the wicked smile Cyra grew sick of.  How could he be so calm, knowing that he will never leave Sanctuary alive. “You want a brutal road to truth, don’t cry, you asked for it.  
  
“How did you find us. Why Rhys?” The woman ignored his comment and proceeded into her wonder.  She was not backing away from something she had waited for for years.  
  
“Once I was part of the Gunners.  Made allies with their leader: Marcus. As it later turned out, he was a hell of a spy, and so he inspected the Quincy grounds, seeing your family try to sneak into a peaceful life in their territory.” The man began as his eyes closed and he drowned in his memory. “Now, when Marcus encountered the useful information he was kind of short on caps.  Guess who had the loot he thirsts for? That’s right, dove: me. So he comes to me, bear in mind I am now the head of the Raider in the Combat Zone, and tells me that there is this lovely family with two rats: a son and a daughter.”  
  
“You fucking-” Cyra growled but was hushed by the man immediately.  
  
“No interrupting unless you want me to tell you the vague story of your life from my view.” Cloven smiled, satisfied that the woman complied after a moment of hesitation. “And so I gave him half of the caps, ordering him to bring me the boy and spare the other, and then he could have the other half.  A thirsty dog listened to me with no question and snatched your brother in no time. Now that is where the fun began and that it where you and your filthy family ruined it.” The Raven sighed and shook his head. “I am sure you recall the rest of that day.”  
  
“I hate you, you heartless monster.” Cyra’s body was shaking, partially from the pain in her abdomen and the other from the loss of Rhys.  Those twisted Raiders, damn them all, the rotten sadists that found amusement in others’ tragedy and suffering.  
  
“I heard it so much it is now a greatest compliment in my collection, thank you dove.” Cloven chuckled and cleared his throat. “Anything else?”  
  
“My mother, did you spread the rumor that she was a synth?”  
  
“A synth? Did you move to Diamond City? Ha-ha, foolish girl.  Those people are paranoid that the synthetic bastards will take over the world.  You drink from a cup at the wrong end, they assume you’re a synth from the Institute ready for a good ol’ massacre.” The White Raven replied while laughing. “I had no need in killin’ your mother, I knew that one way or another she will be damned.  She had that look on her face, you know, the: I am an open target, kill me please.”  
  
“Shut your trap.” Nick barked from his end, beginning to get annoyed with the way Cloven spoke about his kind, even though it was the Institute synths he mentioned, the detective still disliked the man’s tone.  
  
“Valentine, you were really good at your role of 'shut-the-fuck-up-man', please don’t disappoint me.” The man replied with a roll in his eyes. “Let the dove ask more.”  
  
“My father,” Cyra said after a long moment of silence.  She tried to keep her voice from shaking, but failed as she finally found the courage to speak.  “Where is he?”  
  
“The hell do I know.” Cloven shrugged.  
  
“He left Diamond City for some reason.  I am sure he wanted to find you.”  
  
“And he did.” The Raven smirked and licked his pale lips. “Your father not only found me, but he managed to kill ten of my men in the process.  Brave bastard, I must admit.”  
  
“Tell me everything you know, or I swear I will make you suffer.” Cyra glared at the man angrily, curling her fingers into tight fists, her knuckles whitening.  
  
“Threatening me won’t get you far, dove.” The Raider tsked at her and relaxed more against the wall. “It was a complicated mess at first.”  
  
“Everything on the table, Cloven.” Cyra pressed on, her eyes narrowing as she tried to concentrate her hearing into an inhuman level if that was possible.  She needed every detail engraved in her mind, even the most painful one.  
  
“Well, let me begin with a day your father showed up at the door of my kingdom…” Cloven began, his eyes darkening in a soothing flashback of action.  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
_The rain had never been so cold before. The Commonwealth was enveloped in a thick fog like an icy blanket with a soft green hue on its bottom. The Combat Zone was hidden within the buildings, a sinister nest where only amusing tragedies took place._  
  
_A group of Raiders stood near the closed doors of the entrance, talking among themselves about the unfortunate winner that managed to beat one of their great fighters. Even though the man was already dead because of his chem addiction, he was still much more powerful than his opponent that just happened to be walking by.  Nonetheless, Cloven asked to greet the winner privately and give him the prize from his own hands._  
  
_“You think he will kill him?” One of the scavengers asked as he swung his baseball bat from side to side, practicing a swing he would use to make heads explode before him later._  
  
_“Maybe.  Knowing the leader, he's an unpredictable individual, but I doubt he will let him walk away with the prize of two thousand caps.” Another Raider said over his shoulder as he looted a nearby corpse of some unfortunate settler._  
  
_“Would you two shut your mouth? I think I hear the Raven’s voice is getting closer to the doors.” One of the muscular-looking men barked at the two. He was Cloven’s right hand, going by the name of Bull; when the leader was gone, this dictator surely enjoyed the sweet goblet of power. He usually commanded several groups to go scavenge for caps and fresh loot in order to make himself seem like a worthy soldier of the Combat Zone.  And even though he was known for his love for booze, no one dared to complain behind his back. Bull had ears everywhere and if there was a Raider that questioned young Cloven’s domination, they were found dead outside the doors with barely anything on them. The facility took on a self-called monarchy where Cloven became a God-like king who could place a generous bullet into anyone’s head with no hesitation._  
  
_“Bull, what’s going on?” The scavenger grinned, exposing a large amount of missing teeth in the excitement of a moment._  
  
_“I think he is talking to the winner.” Bull barked back and dared to quietly create a small crack in the door to peek inside. “Holy shit…”_  
  
_“What? What is it?”_  
  
_“Cloven is talking to our men and he....he is holding the winner’s head in his hand.” The Bull whispered and swallowed.  He obviously paled as if he saw a Glowing Deathclaw stare back at him across the room. “He cut the man’s head off…”_  
  
_“That’s our leader!” A waster laughed and hurried to the doors before pushing through to get inside before anyone else. “I hope this is a good reason for celebra-” The Raider could not finish his sentence as a bullet whizzed through the air and exploded in the man’s chest. The waster coughed up blood as he stared down at the expanding red flower on his patched shirt.  He hiccuped as his eyes rolled back and he fell over on the floor: dead._  
  
_“I think I made it clear that I wanted you to stay outside.”  Cloven took a deep breath as he returned the revolver to the nearby Raider whom he borrowed it from. He then noticed the Bull looking inside with the rest of his boys and gestured them to come in.  He slowly lifted his bloodied hand in which he held the winner’s head by his long white locks. “He wanted to increase his prize by a fifty, I don’t like negotiations not under my conditions.” The Raven sighed and threw the head into the corner of the room, then reached over to wipe his hand on one of the Raiders' shoulders._  
  
_“I am glad that he is dead.” Bull tried to smile; Cloven continued to shock him by his cold actions. “I disliked him from the very beginning.”  The White Raven only nodded in reply and then made his way up the stairs onto the balcony he always occupied as his headquarters._  
  
_“We need someone that can really fight for the price that is proposed.  Two thousand caps was a great deal, but some people are consumed by greed.” He sighed and threw his feet over a table after sitting down.  He poured vodka over his dirty hand thus washing his hands from the unwanted filthy blood of an unworthy man he had decapitated with ease._  
  
_“Is that so fun to you to ruin people’s lives like that?’ Suddenly a deep voice came from the distance where the door was.  All Raiders sharply turned around with their guns aiming at the tall man in a green coat with a checkered shirt underneath and dark brown pants. His hair was pushed back roughly, a few locks poking out here and there since they were handled by the wind. “You are a piece of shit after all.”_  
  
_The Raiders started yelling back at the man, some of them ready to take the first shot, but one gesture from the leader and everyone was hushed at once.  Cloven elevated from his seat and leaned over the balcony railing, his eyes focusing on an uninvited guest and lips spreading into a wicked grin._  
  
_“James.” He hissed and opened his arms. “Came to avenge your dead son? You're a hero.” He chuckled and descended down the stairs to approach the man._  
  
_“I would be an idiot if I wanted to kill you here.” James took a deep breath. His eyes spitting out hatred and anger at the leader._  
  
_“Then why are you here?” Cloven cocked his head to the side and studied James with his arms crossed over his chest._  
  
_“I want your guarantee that my family will stay safe from your rats.” He began, immediately over shouted by a large wave of laughter from the Raiders._  
  
_“The only way to keep the danger away, James, is to scare it away every time it comes.  You think that coming here and bravely entering my kingdom will give you freedom of bargain? You were an idiot from the very beginning.” Cloven sighed and shook his head._  
  
_“I may be a fool, but I have something to give you that you want.” James reached back and retrieved a pouch from his belt.  He shook it audibly, presenting the large amount of caps held within.  The Raiders exchanged surprised glances as if silently agreeing to rob this man if Cloven turns him loose._  
  
_“How much are you willing to pay?” The Raven questioned as his eyes glided down the bag._  
  
_“Four thousand.”_  
  
_“My, where did you find all that?” Cloven whistled, followed by an approving uproar from his men._  
  
_“It doesn’t matter.  What matters now is that you either take this for a simple promise, or I leave.” James barked and hid the pouch behind his belt. The Raiders turned to the leader, eyes full of hope that he will comply to a condition that can be easily torn apart if he wishes.  No one dared to make terms with Cloven that he disliked or considered foolish._  
  
_“Deal.” The White Raven smiled after a long pause of silence. “Hand over the caps and consider your family vulnerable no more.” He said and extended his hand, index finger gesturing to bring the payment forward._  
  
_“So easy? Did I just buy you with caps you can easily get anywhere?” James arched his brows, not sure if Cloven had just agreed to his conditions._  
  
_“The Combat Zone men will remember this deal.  But those who are scattered all over the Commonwealth, and whose carelessness is wild to my control, are still a danger to you.  So all you have to do is start watching out for your family.” The Raven replied and after receiving the caps pointed at the door. “You’re free to leave. Just make sure no one shoots you out there.  It is a long walk after all.” The man added as he gestured for his men to force protesting James out the Combat Zone while he made his way up the steps again and into his nest.  Bull followed right behind, enjoying the sounds of dancing caps in the pouch and already imagining most of it being in his pocket._  
  
_“How do you think he got the money, Raven?” The man asked as he joined Cloven in his resting place, sitting down on the neighboring couch._  
  
_“Don’t know.” The leader shrugged and opened the pouch, gazing down at the caps and silently counting them without holding any record._  
  
_“He probably robbed someone in Diamond City. Not a good tactic if you ask me since it is a pretty powerful settlement.” Bull smirked and twiddled his thumbs with a hum. “What are you going to do with the money? I say we buy more decorations and reconstruct the arena so it looks more...intimidating.”_  
  
_“We’ll see.” Cloven murmured back, not listening to Bull at all.  He was too busy gazing at the caps and wondering just how much the father didn’t want to lose his wife and daughter. “Hey Bull, take three best scavengers out of your group with you to follow James. Make sure you are disguised as drifters and well armed.  I want to see where he is going.”_  
  
_“Do you want us to attack him?” Bull grinned and sat back, excitedly taking the orders._  
  
_“No. You forbidden to take any action other than watch. In one week make sure one of you comes back with the news.  Then, after two weeks, and after about a month I want the last two to come back with a full report of everything James has done.” Cloven demanded as he looked up at his general._  
  
_“Alright, that will be done.  But there is one more issue, what if he goes back to Diamond City and stays there for a long time? Where are we supposed to stay?” Bull raised his brow, questioning if the leader had planned his sudden order all the way through. Without saying anything, Cloven studied the man for just a moment before throwing the bag of caps at Bull’s feet._  
  
_“Get it done and don’t make me disappointed.  Every cap counts.”_  
  
_“Yes, Raven.”_  
  
☢       ☢       ☢  
  
“And? Did you find out anything?” Cyra noticed that she was sitting on the edge of her seat, taking in every word that escaped Cloven’s mouth, and hoping that he would finally give the conclusion of her dad’s current state.  
  
“No. My men never returned.” The White Raven shook his head. “They either spent the caps to become independent, or simply died somewhere from an overdose of chems and alcohol.”  
  
“Father never returned after he left. I was left completely alone.” Cyra swallowed and looked away.  She felt tears coming to her eyes; her father tried to bribe the leader of the Raiders just to make sure that she was guaranteed to be safe.  She knew it failed, but her heart fell as she realized that her father may be dead right now. “Wait, how do you know that my father wasn’t killed by your dogs?”  
  
“One of them returned after a week.  He said your father was headed toward Diamond City, but made a lot of stops at caravans and neighboring settlement for some unknown reason.” Cloven shrugged. “Then, I lost all contact.”  
  
“I hate you. Why couldn’t you just leave him alone!” Cyra screamed and sharply stood up, immediately falling back down since the sharp pain made itself known. She slammed the stimpak into her side and released the liquid to soothe and recover several torn muscles.  Cloven smirked as he saw her cringe in pain. But remained silent waiting for her to settle in.  
  
“Any other questions?”  
  
“Yes, actually.” Valentine suddenly made himself known once more. “What the hell did you do to your bullet that no stimpak could heal it?”  
  
“Ah, finally a good question.” The White Raven melted into a sweet grin. “I soaked it in a chemical mixture of irradiated blood, poison, and a blend of psycho that fitted perfectly. All those ingredients create an acidic effect that is only powered by a stimpak.  It ruins the muscle tissue and each time you think the miracle liquid saves her, it only ruins her.”  
  
“I knew you were a madman, but not a genius.” Nick hummed and crossed his arms. “With our medic’s help, we managed to clean out that substance of yours. Cyra is safe right now and only suffering the left over damage.”  
  
“That’s most unfortunate.” Cloven rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the woman whose head was hanging low, surpassed sobbing sounds coming from her.  “Oh no, the poor dove cannot handle her emotions?”  
  
“Shut up you monster!” Cyra shouted, her voice cracking as she pushed away from her seat, trying to ignore the battle for survival in her abdomen while she made her way outside the shack.  Valentine followed her immediately, grabbing her by the elbow to provide support after he slammed the door shut after him.  
  
“Here, let’s get you to bed, doll.” He spoke softly, trying to calm the woman as she pressed against his side, tears rolling down her eyes like waterfalls.  She only nodded in response, asking him if he could stay with her and help her fall asleep even though it was only late afternoon.  She said she did not want to eat or drink, but only forget everything just for a moment.  
  
And he stayed there with her: laying on the left side of the bed as Cyra claimed the right. The woman seemed to weep endlessly as she finally managed to pass out nearing dusk, but Nick refused to move and leave her side as she clutched to him like a scared animal, searching for something that can keep her conscience clear.  He stroked her hair as his eyes scanned the scarred ceiling above, softly telling her old stories of his adventures he could remember from his journeys.  
  
“It’s going to be alright.” He whispered as he finally heard the sobbing turn into slow deep breathing. “You have me and I will never leave your side.”


End file.
